We Can't Run Forever
by coveryoureyes
Summary: Alternate Universe in which the Dark Curse was never cast. For reasons to be revealed later, Emma was not raised by Snow and Charming. This is the story of how a vengeful pirate and a former street rat on the run encountered one another and developed a love that would alter the world forever. Now rated M for lemony goodness.
1. Chapter 1

AU in which the Dark Curse was never cast, Red was born one generation later, and for reasons to be revealed in time, Emma was not raised by Snow and Charming.

* * *

Emma was halfway out the window when Red angrily grabbed her by the boot and pulled her right back into the cottage, where Emma landed in a heap on the floor.

"What the hell Emma? Not even a good bye? I didn't peg you for the type to run out on her friends. And don't you think you owe Granny-"

Emma cut off Red with an exasperated groan, brushing dirt off her pants as she stood. "Red, that is exactly why I have to leave. I can't let you and Granny get hurt because of me. Not after everything you two have done for me."

Red and Emma shared a look of understanding.

Emma had just been released from prison when she stumbled upon Red five years ago. It had been a full moon, and Red's cloak had been torn. Emma had approached the shaking, terrified young woman, and after Red warned her to run, Emma had watched as the beautiful girl shuddered and transformed into a wolf. Emma's eyes had locked with those of the wolf now standing in front of her, but their connection was soon broken by the shouts of villagers who were quickly approaching, armed and scared; a dangerous combination.

Emma had acquired fighting skills from her childhood as a street orphan that had developed into expertise rivaling that of many trained warriors. Waving off the wolf, she had kept the villagers from pursuing the creature that Emma knew to be at least part human, holding them off until she had finally been knocked unconscious.

When she had awoken in a bed – a warm one nonetheless – she had been extremely confused and apprehensive. However, an elderly woman with a gripping handshake had introduced herself as Granny and thanked Emma for saving her grand daughter. Red approached the bed soon after and muttered with embarrassment that she was sorry Emma had to see her 'time of the month', earning a laugh from everyone.

Upon finding out she did not have a home to return to, Granny and Red had insisted she stay with them, and Emma was forced to agree by Granny's kind but firm look.

Five years later, Emma and Red had become best friends, considering one another family. Their unorthodox family of three loved one another, even if arguments ended with crossbow bolts embedded in the walls, claw marks on the furniture, and knives stuck in the kitchen table. It was because of this love that Emma had decided she had to leave, in order to keep Red and Granny safe.

"Emma, we can all run together. Believe me, Granny and I have had to move around a lot. Some neighbors aren't exactly welcoming when they find out the girl next door is a werewolf."

Emma sighed and locked eyes with her best friend. She knew without a doubt that she would give her life to save Red's, and that Red would do the same for her. But this was not Red's problem, and she couldn't live with herself if she dragged the closest thing she had to a family into danger.

"Red, you know I love you. Without you and Granny, I'd have died in the streets long ago. But this is not something that should fall on you. I don't know why the hell The Dark One wants to capture me, but I do know that anyone who gets in his way will be killed. If he wants me, he's going to have to find me first," Emma said, a slight smile on her face as she imagined angering The Dark One.

"So you are really going then?" Red finally asked, sadness clouding her eyes.

"Yes. I'll be safe. More importantly, you both will be safe," she said.

Abruptly, Red left the room, leaving Emma incredibly confused before she returned a minute later, arms overflowing with supplies.

"You are going to have to blend in. The posters all have sketches of your face, and there is nothing we can change about that. But they also note the blue hood Granny made for you, so you'll have to leave it. I pulled out a few of my old jackets and cloaks – they're all brown or gray, so in a crowd there won't be any way to spot you," Red listed, continuing to sort through the things she had gathered.

"Red, you know you don't have to… I have things of my own," Emma whispered, overcome by the generosity she was still unaccustomed to. Being abandoned over and over didn't exactly condition someone into thinking that they deserved love or any bit of kindness to be shown.

"Shut up, Ems. If you're to leave before the sun rises, we have to get you going," she quipped, a ghost of a smile on her face, "I also brought a few essentials I'm sure you forgot: canteen, extra socks, and a compass. Your hair sort of gives you away too, Em, so I grabbed a few caps."

Emma nodded in agreement. The village they lived in had hundreds of people, but Emma was one of a small handful with blond hair, and her flowing waves were a dead giveaway. "I grabbed some clothes and my knives. I, um, think I'm set to go," she said, throwing the now-filled pack over her shoulder.

For a single moment their eyes locked as they stood facing one another, and both were reminded of the moment a newly released criminal and a wolf had shared the very same look, a moment that had changed both of their lives forever.

Emma took the step forward, hugging Red fiercely, and whispered, "Please tell Granny I'm sorry. I can't say it myself."

Red laughed with tears threatening her eyes, "Only because you know she'd kick your ass before tying you to the kitchen table."

Letting go, Emma walked to the same window and climbed onto its ledge.

"Bye, Ruby-Red," she whispered over her shoulder.

When she hopped out of the window and began her walk toward the neighboring village, she barely heard Red whisper,

"Bye, Swan-Lake."

* * *

Barely five hours after leaving Red and Granny's, Emma was thanking God for Red's planning. Walking across the second stream had completely soaked what little dry sections remained of her shoes, and a nasty blister could seriously slow her down.

Sitting in a small clearing, she pulled out her map of the coast and a bit of food. Snacking on bread and fruit, she traced the path she could guess she had taken, and found herself approximately three miles from her destination; a larger town that was mainly used as a port. With so many people coming in and out, she knew she was much less likely to be spotted by The Dark One's men.

Rising to her feet, she tugged her boots back on, noticing a moment too late that a pebble had lodged itself into her sole.

"Damn it, bloody little stupid stone," she swore, hopping on her other foot and tugging off the offending shoe, tossing it a few feet away.

"Well, well, well, that ain't the kind of talk that should be comin' out of a pretty little lady's mouth."

Emma spun quickly spotting the man who had spoken. Paunchy, dirty, and seemingly drunk, he stumbled into the clearing and approached her.

Sighing under her breath, Emma reached for her pack where her weapons were stored. Growing up on the streets she had learned early on that drunk men who approached lone women rarely had good intentions. She could knock him unconscious within seconds, but as she gripped her favorite dagger, his next words surprised and intrigued her.

"Want to grab a drink with a pirate?" the man slurred, beaming with pride at the title he foolishly was declaring to a stranger.

Curious, Emma rose and flipped her hair over her shoulder, adopting a helpless expression as she said in her best seductive voice, "Really? A big, dangerous pirate wants to grab a drink with me?"

The man reached for something in his back pocket, putting Emma on edge and having her quickly brandish her dagger. However, a moment later when he pulled out a small piece of paper, she hastily sheathed her weapon in its hidden holster once again.

Shoving his hand nearly an inch from her face, he continued on in his alcohol-infused rant. "Ye see, my brother's best mate worked for some time as a pirate, and he heard this here pirate is looking for a crew."

Emma's amusement was waning, and as she took a step forward to incapacitate the drunken man, his next words made her freeze, "He's only takin' a few, and they are settin' sail around the world tomorrow. Might be my last night on this side of the world," he leered, clearly thinking that he was going to be spending that night with the woman before him.

With barely a second thought, Emma crouched low and swung the man's legs out from under him before striking his temple with the heavy hilt of her dagger, knocking him unconscious.

Emma plucked the parchment from his grubby fingers, as the words echoed in her head 'last night on this side of the world'. This was fate. Her chance to escape The Dark One's manhunt and keep her loved ones safe.

Emma pulled a large charcoal cap from her pack. Tucking her hair up under the hat, she wiped some dirt on her face. Pulling the cap low on her forehead so her face was barely exposed, Emma read the paper.

_Captain Hook looking for five men at the docks – 7 AM_

Putting on her shoe and throwing her pack over her shoulder, Emma smiled to herself and looked in the direction of the sea port town.

"Well, Captain Hook. This might just be fate."


	2. Chapter 2

Emma arrived in Greenpoint just as the sun began to set, and after paying for a room at the local inn with what little money she had, slept soundly for the first time in what seemed like weeks.

Nightmares involving The Dark One torturing, maiming, and killing her had been plaguing her sleep since the first wanted poster had been attached to the window of the prison. Knowing that she finally had a plan – one that didn't end in her makeshift family being hurt – let her fall into a quick and heavy slumber.

The next morning she quickly ate a breakfast of bread and dried fruit before making her way to the docks nearby.

It wasn't hard to find where the men hoping to join Captain Hook were assembled. Seven men stood in front of a magnificent ship emblazoned with the name _The Jolly Roger, _rigid in posture and struggling to keep their expressions emotionless.

Emma joined the men quietly, wanting to keep her presence nonchalant, only nodding in greeting to the single man who glanced in her direction.

It wasn't like they would be fighting to the death for the positions.

She hoped.

Suddenly, a large man appeared on the deck of the ship, descending the ramp with squinted eyes, sizing up the group.

"I'm Starkey, Hook's first mate. The five of you who will be joinin' us need to be prepared. Men typically stay with us for two years or more. There are no days off. Work keepin' the ship runnin' is brutal, and the majority of what we do is in the plunderin' department. Anyone who's knees are knockin' at that prospect need to leave now."

After the words left the mouth of this mammoth man, two of the men Emma had joined bowed their heads in an embarrassed nature and quickly left the docks. Emma let out a nearly audible breath of relief. Chances of joining were much better for her now, and though she never thought her life would come to this, she really needed to become a pirate.

The first mate, Starkey, was one of the most intimidating men Emma had encountered. Tall and wide, he resembled a bull more than he did a man. His voice was low enough that Emma could swear it made her bones vibrate, and coal black eyes gave the impression that he could snap those bones without breaking a sweat.

"We're only takin' five today, got no room for six."

Starkey walked down the line of men, and Emma saw him tap five men. Shock made her freeze. She had not truly considered what she would do if she didn't get on the ship. Images that had been haunting her in sleep suddenly flashed before her eyes. This had been it. Her way to escape.

In two seconds, she went from shocked to furious as the man standing behind her began to walk by her, hissing in a low breath, "Did ya really think they'd let a dwarf on board?"

Emma was by no means a perfect woman, but she had met and befriended some dwarves growing up, who had gotten her ass out of trouble more times than she could count. People chasing her down for stealing an apple or two let it slide when Grumpy was suddenly facing them wielding his pickaxe. Using the term as a slur was something she did not tolerate. After this random jackass spoke, her vision nearly blurred with anger.

Acting on the type of pure instinct that only developed after fighting for your life over the years, Emma swiftly kicked the back of his right knee with the hardened heel of her boot. As his leg buckled and he began to pitch forward, Emma grasped his arm, turning it quickly and using the momentum to shove him forward and off the dock, landing in the water.

The entire course of actions lasted about four seconds, and the four men climbing the ramp as well as Starkey had turned around at the man's sharp grunt of surprise and pain. Shock shone through on the new recruits faces, but Starkey gave Emma an impressed nod.

"What's your name, boy?"

Emma cleared her throat, and adopting what she hoped was a low and graveling voice, quickly muttered, "Emmett, sir."

"Consider yourself a member of Captain Hook's crew on _The Jolly Roger,_" Starkey said, cracking a slight smile and showing warmth in what she had thought were cruel eyes. Feeling invigorated, she had to stop herself from skipping up the ramp and onto the deck.

She was escaping.

As she stepped onto the deck and looked around she could see all of the moving parts of the ships invisible from the dock. Men were weaving around one another, grabbing onto ropes, pulling on sheets of sails, and carrying barrels across the ship and down the stairs into what she presumed was the hold.

At that exact moment, Emma realized she probably should have sought out some sort of knowledge of any kind about sailing or the ocean.

* * *

Starkey watched the men board the ship, already annoyed by the cocky strides of four of the men. He laughed under his breath. After the first week of working on the ship, these new sailors would be limping into their bunks.

He had tried to figure out the fifth, the little lad Emmett. A short and slim man, couldn't be older than twenty or twenty two. A brief glimpse of his face had only revealed that he was filthy, and paired with his bagging clothes he was definitely not from a family with money; probably a beggar or orphan.

But damn had he misjudged the kid. The lad had a fire he hadn't seen in years. Taking down a man that size was impressive, and considering he hadn't once touched the knives Starkey had noted were hanging from his belt meant that the kid knew he wouldn't need them.

Looking once again to the group of new recruits, Starkey shouted, "Line up starboard of the center mast, the Captain will be joining us," deciding to lower the men down a peg he continued, "and if ye don't want to see what color your insides are, I wouldn't show any disrespect."

* * *

Killian's perspective next chapter, and letting you all know, when he isn't flirting he is a hell of a pirate


	3. Chapter 3

Killian Jones had a hangover.

Scratch that.

Killian had one hundred goddamn bloody horses trampling his head.

He cracked open his eyes as Starkey opened his door, letting it swing and hit the wall with a crash.

"Captain, we're pickin' up the new men today, you're gonna have to come up on deck in a while. Can't have them thinkin' they can get away with anything under Captain Hook's sails can we?"

Killian let out a growl as the sunlight invaded his cabin, only adding to his splitting headache. Starkey had been on his ship since he first set foot on _The Jolly Roger_ and was the only man that could call him out on his bullshit without being gutted.

"How long 'til I have to give them the welcoming?"

"About a half hour, sir. We're about to dock. Thought you'd want time to clean yourself up a bit."

Throwing his covers off, he sat upright, rubbing his eyes until his vision blurred.

"Thanks, mate. You can pick out the recruits, I'll just give them the walk around."

With a quick nod, Starkey left Killian alone to his thoughts.

He had dived into his stash of rum last night, polishing off two bottles in as many hours, try to forget what haunted him.

The bloody Crocodile was within reach, and there was nothing he could do about it.

With a hiss, he stood up and entered his bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, looking up and meeting his own bloodshot eyes.

_Failure. Weakling. Coward. _

His sources had informed him the day before that The Dark One was only miles away from the sea port town they would be docking at to pick up new recruits. He was closer to his revenge than he had been for hundreds of years, and still he could do _nothing._

Upon returning to this realm from Neverland months ago, he had learned of a way to finally kill the Crocodile. A dagger that could finally, at long last, allow him to avenge Milah.

To be so close to The Dark One and not be able to even lock eyes upon him was torture of the worse sort.

He flinched from his own gaze and continued to douse his hair and face with the frigid water, hoping to expel the look of weakness that his hangover had left him with. New recruits often boarded his ship with the idea that being on a pirate ship made them a true pirate, impervious to danger.

Killian always dispelled that notion quickly and ruthlessly. If he had to toss a man overboard in order for the rest to fall in line, so be it. Less men who were loyal was a far greater asset than a mass of men who would mutiny as soon as they saw an opportunity.

He returned to his cabin and put on his clothing, layering leather upon silk, looking like a true pirate when he was done. His hook was attached to his arm at all times, and he had to dress deliberately in order to keep it from tearing through his shirts. Without it, he didn't feel whole. His ridiculous moniker – Captain Hook – could only inspire fear in men's hearts when the man who captained _The Jolly Roger _actually donned a hook of a lethal sort.

Killian Jones felt as though he no longer existed at times. He had not been Killian in decades. After Milah's murder he was Hook. Ruthless. Driven.

He had not always been so. But the laughter had left his eyes and his lightness of heart was no longer.

After musing for a few minutes, he could hear Starkey's booming voice above deck, telling what must be the new men that he would be joining them.

With a tired sigh, and a swig of the rum still left next to his bed, he pushed open his door and climbed the stairs to the deck, remaining in the shadows as he sized up the men who looked properly nervous lined up and facing a pirate known throughout the land.

Eyes narrowed, he trailed his eyes upon each man, letting himself enjoy the look of apprehension that gripped each man after a few moments of his inspection. His eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch when his eyes fell on the fifth man. Short and slight, head bowed with a dirty cap on his head, Killian questioned Starkey's judgment in choosing the lad. He still did not speak, nodding slightly at his first mate to approach him.

In a low murmur that was too quiet for he rest of the crew to hear, he muttered, "Didn't think you were the bleeding heart type, Starkey. Why the bloody hell would we need a runt on board? Especially when our undertakings are going to be more difficult than ever?"

"You don't need to worry about the runt, Captain. Didn't fancy a weakling myself. But as we were boardin' the ship he took down the man in front of 'im without a second thought. Had to have had a foot and a half on 'im, at least one hundred pounds as well. If you don't mind my sayin' sir, we need some life on deck again."

With another nod, Killian dismissed the man. Though he still doubted the usefulness of the lad, for now he would give benefit of the doubt to Starkey's assessment of him.

Stepping out from beneath the shadows, he finally spoke to the group in a clear voice saturated with authority.

"For those of you that will last on my ship, I will be your Captain. You will only address me as Captain, or Captain Hook if you prefer." He let a smirk fall on his features, and raised the gleaming appendage into the sun's light, reflecting off of it's deadly point.

"_The Jolly Roger _is the best ship that sails these waters, and those of other realms. Her maintenance is necessary and time consuming, with no room for any mistakes. You lads are beginning at the bottom."

He saw a man visibly swallow, and nearly smiled at the reputation he had acquired, some of it deserved, and some of it legend. Either way, it proved useful when dealing with new men aboard his ship.

"State your names."

The first man, large and expressionless, said in a low voice, "Bowen, Captain."

The next two men in a similar manner, informed him that their names were Rack and Worst.

The fourth man, clearly terrified to be standing in front of the infamous man, stuttered and whispered, "C – c – c – Cormic, Cap't."

Killian struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. Every time he had ever been forced to bring new men on board, there was always one or two who proved to be nothing more than sailors who thought being a pirate would impress someone back home.

Though he thought at first his ears may have deceived him, he heard a snort from the final man. The little one Starkey had championed.

"And you, boy. Your name."

Standing solidly, his head rose. His cap was oversized, spilling over his eyes, but Killian could make out a small smirk as the lad said, "Emmett."

Knowing his curiosity surrounding the fifth man would be sated in a moment, he looked to the row of men a final time before gesturing to Starkey.

"My first mate will bring you to hull, where the crew's bunks are located. Thirty other men are already situated. Starkey will show you to your bunks, and a quick introduction to the rest of the crew will be provided. I will see you back on deck in a half hour to test your abilities. Prove yourself useful, and your time on _The Jolly Roger _could be the best of your life. Fail to be of use to me, and you could find your time quickly running out."


	4. Chapter 4

Emma stood with her knees locked. She would not allow these pirates to see her shaking, looking weak. They would turn on her and pick her dry before her time even started if they thought she was an easy target.

She had made sure not to raise her eyes to those of the captain. After all, someone couldn't commandeer a ship based on brutality alone, he had to have some measure of intelligence, and now that she was stranded on a boat surrounded by men, it was vital that her secret not be discovered.

Based on his garments and hook alone, she had recognize him before he introduced himself. He radiated power. His voice was hypnotic, and she had to catch herself from meeting his gaze as he asked for her name. No, Emmett's name.

She could not be Emma for any duration of this trip, she had to be Emmett if she were to survive and finally escape the Dark One for good.

She trailed Starkey silently, ahead of the four other new men, and followed him to the hull of the ship before descending the stairs into a dark, dripping area beneath the deck. Ahead, she could see a tightly packed area with bunks smaller than even she could fit tightly on.

Starkey's voice shocked her out of her curious reverie, and he soon pointed out bunks for each to call their own. Emma tossed her pack onto the meager area and sat down for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

_Made it onto the Jolly Roger. Haven't been found by the Dark One. Might wish I had if Captain Hook discovers my lies._

Starkey led the group back above deck, and began a meandering tour of the ship, naming the main mast, the fore mast, and even trying to explain the seven separate sails that Emma could see men slaving away at. If men so much larger than she had trouble with the work, how in hell's name was she to prove of use before Hook disemboweled her?

Being honest with herself, Emma recognized that she knew nearly nothing about ships, the only knowledge she had of them was from the picture books Granny had kept from Red's childhood.

Starkey shouted out introductions along the way, and as soon as each pirate's name was given, it immediately slipped her mind. There were thirty men, none of whom seemed to want to engage in conversation with the new recruits, and Emma was thankful that she was avoiding attention, a vital aspect of maintaining this new identity.

Starkey suddenly turned and shouted over the sound of the waves and the sharp sounds of the sails, "We're about to set off, you have ten minutes before meeting the Captain and I on deck once again, gather your bearings and assess your own usefulness. "

Emma quickly descended the stairs once again, reaching her bunk and sitting heavily, burying her face in her hands. She was useless on a ship. Much less a carefully maintained pirate ship with a deranged captain who would easily kill her when he discovered that she couldn't contribute.

She immediately bit back a wearied groan as she heard a creak in the doorframe of the crew's lodging area. Nearly filling the doorway were two men, both glaring at her, seemingly trying to fry her insides with the intensity of their apparent hatred.

Emma cleared her throat and muttered, "Everythin' alright?"

The shorter of the men stepped forward and growled, "I'm Rack. This here's Vance. We heard you toppled another man just as he was walkin' up the plank."

"Uh, yea, had to get a place on Captain Hook's ship. Life of a pirate for me."

Vance stepped forward, boxing Emma to the corner of the area. "You see lad, we was expectin' a friend of ours to join the crew today. Seems like you took his place."

Before she knew what was happening, she was suspended, pressed against the wall by a hand wrapped around her throat. Rack leaned in and hissed in her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down her spine, "One wrong move, _one, _and we won't leave enough of you to bury."

He suddenly dropped her to the floor, her chest heaving for the oxygen it needed. Rack and Vance stepped over her shaking, prone form. She stayed on the ground until she could hear them climbing the steps and emerging on deck.

Coughing, she stood. Emma Swan did not get bullied into submission. Hell, Emma Swan was usually the one doing the bullying. With a new determination to succeed on the ship, she righted her hat, brushed a bit of the grime off of her back, and walked back up to the deck, joining the four other men who were already assembled facing the captain's quarters.

Immediately after she took her place, the captain appeared and stood before the man farthest from she. She heard him mutter that he had the strength to man any of the seven sails, and the stamina to do it all day and night. The following three men responded similarly, and just as Emma realized that she had to speak, something caught her eye just beyond the edge of the ship's deck.

A lone bird dipped low, nearly skimming the water before it ascended high into air, and Emma had to shield her eyes from the sun as she saw it take a rest on the structure attached to the highest point of the main mast.

With a wide smile, Emma could suddenly remember a single part and function of a ship.

Hook stood before her and demanded, "What is it you can bring to the ship, lad?"

"I can climb, Captain. I have no fear of heights, good eyes, and quick reflexes. I can man the crow's nest."

Hook's boots, the only part of him visible to her now, suddenly stilled. Speaking to himself in a mumble, she could make out the words, "Haven't … a while … too heavy … need it."

She suddenly jumped as she felt his hand clap her on the shoulder, and with a – was it excited? – tone of voice, he said, "We haven't had a man small enough to be stationed there in years. The structure's unsteady and the rope ladder up will need mending, but if you can make it to the nest, consider yourself a member of my crew."

Emma turned to the direction of the main mast and could see tattered rope hanging down from the very top of the mast. Emma had not been lying, she wasn't afraid of heights. But the idea of plummeting to her death on the deck of the ship did not exactly put her at ease either.

_If you can climb over fences and up trees to avoid being caught, you can sure as hell climb a ladder._

Steeling her shoulders and making sure not to glance back, Emma grabbed onto the ropes, and placed her foot on the first rung. Just one foot in front of the other. As long as she could distract herself from the task, it was easy to simply admire the ocean's view as she ascended close and closer to the top of the mast.

Nearly at the top, her right foot stepped onto the rope, and it subsequently snapped.

Her life didn't flash before her eyes. In fact, she was never more aware of what was going on in the moment her foot became tangled and she was dangling upside down. One hand immediately went to her hat, keeping it firmly pressed to her head. The guarantee that being discovered as a liar would get her killed was far more certain than the chance of death if she fell to the deck.

Emma was not a person of faith. She didn't believe in destiny or fate, but she figured it couldn't hurt, so from her precarious position, she muttered, "please, please, please, it's only a few more feet."

Her plight went unanswered, and as she began to slowly rotate from her almost humorous hanging position, she could suddenly see the still intact section of the ladder, only feet before her.

Reaching as far as her arm could stretch, she was able to grasp it with the tips of her fingers before pulling it into her hands completely. Relying heavily on her arms, she righted herself before untangling the knot around her foot. Hurrying before some other malady could strike, she scurried to the top of the ladder, and soon found herself sitting at the top of the ship's main mast.

It was where she was meant to be. Every nerve felt alive, the wind wrapping around her skin only heightened her senses, and she could see everything. Delirious with her happiness, she nearly forgot to adapt to her low voice as she shouted down, "Will that be all, Captain?"

A sharp nod was all she received, and from her perch she didn't hear Starkey's amused whisper, "He really likes that hat, don't he?"

* * *

She should have known it would happen eventually. She had tried to convince herself that once they docked somewhere, she would abandon the ship and take off, running in the opposite direction.

However, as fate would have it, three weeks into their voyage, it's location known only to the captain, Hook had told his crew they would dock at the nearest port town, Violet Hill.

Three weeks she had maintained her identity. Bandaging around her chest and torso every morning in order to try to eliminate her womanly shape, only splashing water to bathe, and wearing the goddamned hat every hour of every day.

If the rest of the crew found her dirty or strange, it didn't matter. She climbed to the crow's nest every day and dutifully watched the horizons until her eyesight blurred. Rack and Vance couldn't touch her; she was now a vital part of the crew. She had already spotted two of the royal ships, which Hook had deftly avoided, too focused on his mystery goal to even consider the risk of plundering.

On their way to Violet Hill, the storm rose on the horizon.

She could only ever see a vague shape of the captain from her position at the top of the main mast, but as the ship headed towards the storm, she was able to see how he had been made captain when he sounded fairly young.

Weaving in and out of men, he secured the ropes that would steady the topsails and the main sails shouting orders to his men all the way. It was clear from barely a minute of her observation that _The Jolly Roger _was his, and only his, ship. In ten minutes time the crew was as prepared as they could be to brave the storm.

When the first drops of rain began to pelt the ship, Emma began to worry. She had the advantage of being able to see far beyond what the rest could, and this storm seemed to be darker than most. Its clouds spun unnaturally, and she could swear there was a blue, nearly purple tone to the hurricane's center.

Emma was mesmerized, staring into the storm as it embraced the ship. She was unable to hear Hook's command that all men on deck besides Starkey, who was manning the wheel, needed to get below deck.

The thunder was deafening, and when Emma glanced down to see a nearly empty ship, she swore loudly and began her descent.

The wind tore at her shirt, nearly tearing it off, and each step of the ladder she had scurried down in weeks prior was now an incredible obstacle as the ladder did not remain still whatsoever.

In the final ten feet of her climb down, the wind tore the hat from her head, and she had to let go of the ladder with one hand to grasp it and force it back on her head. Satisfied that she had obtained the hat and her disguise was in order, she hopped down to the deck.

She had barely taken two steps towards the stairs that would lead down to her bunk before she felt the wind pop the buttons from her shirt. She grasped her hands around the lapels and attempted to wrap it around herself once again.

In a span of three seconds, everything changed.

(three)

Her cap once again left her head, and her hair spilled loose from its constraints.

(two)

Starkey shouted at Emmett to duck.

(one)

Emma turned wildly to find her disguise, and registered that the main mast's boom was spinning towards her with the speed of the winds which carried its sail.

"Oh fu-"


	5. Chapter 5

Starkey was the only crew member Hook had left on deck. Having steered the ship for centuries in Neverland, it was very nearly a part of him. Spinning the wheel on instinct, there was no doubt that he would soon steer them clear of this storm, and they would resume their journey to Violet Hill.

His single minded focus was disturbed the moment he could see the little lad, Emmett, shimmying down the ladder. Starkey could not reach him from his position, and the boy needed to get under deck _now. _

To his immense horror, his eyes were drawn to the boom of the main mast. Even though his vision was heavily obscured by the sheets of rain, it was clear that it would hit Emmett.

"DUCK, EMMETT!"

Time slowed. He watched with horror as it landed a blow to the side of the man's torso.

But there was no longer a man.

Flying through the air in a hauntingly graceful arc was "Emmett", and with the face to match the name revealed as well as a streak of golden curls, Starkey realized that there had never been a man named Emmett on board. The figure descended and hit the far end of the deck with a loud thump, and was knocked unconscious.

_Holy hell. Holy fucking hell. He's a she. _

_Who the hell is she?_

Starkey longed to leave his post, aid the woman so obviously injured, but he was nearly out of the storm, and any disturbance could endanger them all. Newly determined, he was able to bring the ship to relative safety in a half hour.

The woman had not moved an inch.

Horrified, Starkey saw the crew appear on deck, knowing that Hook would have ordered them to assess and fix any damage to _The Jolly Roger. _These men – these pirates – were capable of incredible brutality.

He could see the woman stir, lifting her head and squinting into the newly shining sun. A moment later, the men spotted her. The mob rushed at her, and Starkey, for the first time in centuries, abandoned his post, running to the captain's cabin.

* * *

Emma was pretty sure she was dead. Except being dead shouldn't hurt so much. Breathing stuck knives into her chest. She finally was able to manage her pain enough to slowly open her eyes.

The light was blinding. It took a few moments for her to see anything at all, but when her eyes finally could focus, she saw the sky. Nearly delirious with shock, she lifted her head and turned it to the side, expecting Red to be laying next to her, imagining the clouds into shapes. Instead, she saw the blurry outlines of a pirate crew advancing quickly on her.

A whisper, more of a croak, escaped her lips as she realized what was happening, "oh no, oh no oh no oh no, no."

Close enough finally to focus on the faces of the two men leading the charge, she nearly vomited. Vance and Rack. The ones who wanted Emmett gone. Emma knew in her current state, they had every advantage possible to deliver the threats that they had hissed.

Before she could even let out a scream, Rack and Vance each grabbed her forearms, dragging her to the mast and shoving her against it. When her back hit the wood and jarred her ribs, she began saying her goodbyes.

The crowd of men had her surrounded, offering no escape as she slumped against the wooden beam.

"Who is she?"

"Hell if I know."

"How'd she get here?"

"Is that Emmett?"

The incredulous pirates were for the most part incredibly confused. Based on the words she could make out with her still-ringing ears she was able to tell that her ruse had been successful these past few weeks.

The snickering laughs only inches from her face brought her back to the present, staring into the eyes of Rack and Vance. There was no mercy visible in their pupils, expanding to the point of looking animalistic with their promised brutality and mercilessness.

"Well look at that, Rack. Seems a lady must have snuck on board. She must really want to be with pirates to do something that foolish."

"Why Vance, I think you're right. Maybe we should give her a taste of us, eh?"

A moment later, Rack had torn the tattered remains of her shirt from her body. The body wrapping she had been using every morning to conceal her figure remained, but she knew that they were not close to being finished.

Vance used his forearm to press beneath her windpipe, pinning her to the mast. The surrounding men were muttering uneasily, not sure what to make of the situation, unsure if they should intervene and risk being attacked by their own men or just stand by and watch this unnamed woman be violated.

Emma was now fully conscious, and with a renewed anger, she scratched at Vance's arm in vain. He licked her cheek slowly, and she was determined not to let a tear escape. She would not let them think they were going to break her. Meeting his eyes, she forced a sarcastic smile to don her face, and said, "What's the matter, Vance? Can't get a woman to go with you willingly?"

The pain across her face informed her that she had been slapped. Her vision went black for a moment, but she smiled with bloody teeth showing due to her now-split lip. She hoped she looked gruesome. She hoped she looked defiant.

The knives she kept tucked in the back of her pants had long since fallen off. If they had remained on her person, she may have been stabbed with her own weapons and died when she was hit with the boom. For a brief moment, she wondered if it would have been a better fate.

Rack stepped in and took over restraining her, pinning her arms above her head, stretching her already severely hurt ribs and abdomen until Emma felt like she was going to split in half.

"You may not be willing, little lady, but I'll have you screaming either way."

She adjusted her stance, trying in vain to lower her center of gravity so that if given a moment long window of opportunity, she could attack as best she could. She may not be victorious, but there was no way in hell Emma was going to die any way but fighting.

The shift in her feet suddenly caused a sharp stinging sensation in her shoes, and Emma remembered that she had tucked a spare knife into her boot earlier that day in case the rope ladder had wound up getting tangled around her. There was hope. A fragment of a chance, but there was still enough hope to repair her damaged resolve.

Mentally preparing herself for whatever horrors these men intended to inflict on her, she jumped in surprise when there was a loud bang.

The door to the captain's cabin had been thrown open, and the heavy wooden door had been thrown with enough force to slam against the adjacent wall.

Emma's eyes flew to the sound, and for the first time she clearly saw the pirate captain she had been working under.

There was no other way to say it, he was stunning. Black hair framed a face far handsomer than any Emma had seen. Based on the brief glance she saw of his scanning eyes, they looked to be a light blue that rivaled that of the ocean.

Shaking herself out of her reverie that had only lasted a fraction of a second, she saw her opportunity. Vance and Rack had turned their heads in response to the noise of the shuddering door, and then focused on their captain.

Emma slid her foot out of her boot, and grasped the hilt of her small dagger between her toes, lifting her foot and transferring the weapon to the hand she was able to pull free from Rack's grasp. Plunging its blade into his palm as it reached to once again capture her, she spun and instantly had his back against the mast, her knife to his throat before he could even let out a shout.

Upon hearing his startled yelp that had transformed into a screech of pain, every man on deck focused their attention on Emma's blade, pressed firmly against Rack's Adam's apple.

Slowly, she faced Hook, who was staring at her with a baffled expression.

Their eyes met, and she ignored the small flutter she felt as she stared into the blue eyes that did indeed put the ocean to shame as she had guessed.

There wasn't a single noise to be heard on deck besides the gentle creaking of the wooden ship rocking on the now calm waves.

Emma took a deep breath, praying her voice wouldn't crack or wheeze, and broke the ominous silence, saying, "Call them off."

It was clear who she was referring to. The crew surrounding the mast were feet away from her; it was only Rack and Vance who were within inches of her clearly abused body, both with terrified expressions on their faces.

The captain seemed to gather his thoughts at her declaration, and in a controlled, low voice ordered, "Vance. Rack. Leave her be."

As soon as her blade did not have contact with Rack's throat, Vance lunged at her with a furious shout accompanied by Rack, reaching for his collection of deadly weapons hanging on his hip.

Emma had expected such a reaction, and lifted her miniscule blade into its path, hoping to diminish some of its force.

Her actions proved to be unneeded however, when the blade Vance had drawn was suddenly stopped by a gleaming, deadly hook, filling the tense air with an echoing clang.

"I ordered you to leave her be. You dare to defy a direct order from your captain?"

The viciousness of Hook's tone was not lost on Vance nor Rack as both began to stutter out explanations, cut off by Hook's next decree.

"Starkey, take these two to the irons for tonight. There is no disobedience permitted. Tomorrow I shall decide how to deal with two men who spark mutiny."

Although she had not been educated on the intricacies of the caste system on a pirate ship, it was obvious from the somber expressions on every crewman's face that mutiny was an incredibly serious offense.

Starkey leaped forward, handcuffs already at his disposal, and soon led the two down into what Emma assumed were the irons.

Emma focused her attention once again on Captain Hook's face and had to remind herself to keep her face strong, not wanting to look like some kid with a crush. She was not weak, and damned if she let anyone think she was.

Hook pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side in consideration, before a look of resolution set in his eyes.

"Lass, accompany me down to my cabin."

Determined not to be led into an even more disastrous situation, she raised her chin and crossed her arms.

"If I refuse, Captain?"

The blue of his eyes seemed to darken and a sinister smile marred his handsome face. "Would you prefer to be in the company of my two mutineers in the irons tonight?" he asked with a mocking tone of concern.

She could not conceal her look of terror before Hook saw it, and with a triumphant smirk said, "I thought as much. Drop your blade and follow me."

Obeying his command, she trailed his footsteps and tried in vain to hide her limp.

The sunlight was extinguished as they journeyed below deck and she set her eyes on the door to his private quarters.

_I should have taken my chances with The Dark One._

* * *

Very few things left Killian speechless. He was a master of words. His manipulation of words was the reason he had acquired the majority of his successes. The only time he was not speaking was when he was allowing a dramatic silence in order to build tension and intimidate whoever he was speaking to.

He had lived for centuries, and never had he been left gaping, thoughts halted.

It had taken only moments for Killian to rush onto the deck after Starkey banged on his door, shouting that he had to come up to the deck.

Starkey had never left his post at the wheel, and when Killian burst onto the scene above his cabin he was half expecting the ship to be in flames or sinking.

Instead he noticed the entirety of his crew gathered around the main mast. Confused by Starkey's urgency and fear in his tone, he scanned the group of men as he approached the area which they were congealed around.

He had barely made out Vance and Rack standing before the beam when everything about the scene changed in a flash.

He could only watch in complete shock and silence as the lithe shape of a woman appeared to be attacking the two of his men. The fluidity of her movements made it seem as though she was dancing, and not even the sight of his men's spilled blood distracted him from his focus on the blonde.

He closed his mouth and began to try to understand what the hell was happening on his ship. He saw a knife against his crewman's throat, and with a flip of blonde hair, he met the eyes of the attacker.

Storm clouds thundered in her gaze, but the steely set to her gaze did nothing to distract from her beauty. She was nothing like the flood of pretty women Killian had seen and even bedded, she was magnificent.

He was not only awestruck by her obvious beauty, but her fierceness. This diminutive lass had just bested one of his strongest men, and now met his eyes with no undercurrent of fear.

Her voice cut through his awe, and her gaze narrowed before she said, "Call them off."

Killian had to employ every ounce of self control to keep the expression of surprise off of his face. What in heaven's name did she need to be called off?

After a cursory glance, his blood felt as though it had stopped in his veins. The woman before him was disheveled, clothing removed, and covered in obvious, extremely extensive injuries.

He struggled to keep his voice neutral as he looked to the men with disgust in his heart. He knew there were deplorable men on his ship. Hell, if he was being honest he was one of them. But he had never forced himself on a woman. Anyone who did was a coward, and seeing such behavior take place on his own ship was enough to make him see red.

"Vance. Rack. Leave her be."

The moment the woman lowered her blade, Killian saw the tension in Vance and Rack's stances and lunged forward. He caught Vance's dagger easily with his hook, and was impressed with the lass's instincts after noting that she had already anticipated the blow.

Rage coursed through his veins with the flagrant disrespect shown to him by the very men he had recruited.

"I ordered you to leave her be. You dare to defy a direct order from your captain?"

The men began to spew excuses, but Killian would show mercy to those who had been merciless themselves only minutes ago to the unnamed woman.

"Starkey, take these two to the irons for tonight. There is no disobedience permitted. Tomorrow I shall decide how to deal with two men who spark mutiny."

Killian knew he would have to carefully consider how to proceed with the two. Any hint of mutiny or undermining of the captain could tear a ship apart, and after centuries of cohesiveness, he would have to deal with their violations of orders swiftly and brutally.

Starkey cuffed the offenders and led them down to the irons, where they would await the punishment he would decide upon before the next dawn.

He met the eyes of the woman again. Now that she or any of his men were in no immediate danger, he was having difficulty deciding how to proceed with this unexplained and downright bizarre circumstance.

If he were to treat her with outright kindness or gentleness, he risked his reputation as a ruthless man, one he had to sustain now more than ever after the display of public disrespect that had just taken place. Being kind to her could also endanger her, as any of the men would be tempted by a woman on board, and if they perceived her as weak there would be all the more temptation to take advantage.

An idea struck him. If the crew believed she was his, off limits, her chances were significantly better. The consequence of touching something that belonged to Captain Hook was enough to deter the crew, who would know that any violation of the unwritten law would result in an incredibly painful, brutal punishment.

"Lass, accompany me down to my cabin."

Instead of agreeing immediately, as he had expected her to since he had just arguably saved her life, she sudden crossed her arms and raised her face in clear defiance. This one was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

"If I refuse, Captain?"

_This bint is going to condemn herself. I just saved her life! Why the bloody hell wouldn't she accompany me to my quarters?_

Women had jumped at the chance to sleep with Captain Hook. After Milah, he had never again been emotionally involved with women, only using them to sate his lust. Used to the attention and even eagerness that he was usually shown, Killian couldn't help but feel angered.

He had to keep up his ruse to give her any chance of lasting on _The Jolly Roger_ but this prig was making it damn difficult to watch out for her well being. "Would you prefer to be in the company of my two mutineers in the irons tonight?" he asked, lathering on the sarcasm and disdain.

Her look of pure panicked fear caused a small twinge of guilt before he rid himself of such weakness. Triumphant in his plan, he only had to enhance his already existing triumphant pride as he gloated, "I thought as much. Drop your blade and follow me."

Without looking back, he spun and descended the stairs to his cabin, hearing her disturbed gait a few paces behind him. Opening his door and gesturing for her to enter, he froze for the second time in a single day.

_Now what?_

* * *

Let me know what you guys think so far, predictions for the upcoming chapters, etc. I love feedback. xx


	6. Chapter 6

Emma was surprised when she entered Hook's room. She had expected a dank and sinister looking interior, but instead encountered one filled with a plethora of books as well as maps splayed over a modest deck, and finally a large, comfortable looking bed.

Seeing his bed snapped her out of her relaxed observation, and she felt her spine stiffen as she fully realized her situation.

She was alone with Captain Hook.

No, she was alone in Captain Hook's bedroom, on his ship, in the middle of the ocean.

Emma had been in situations in which men tried to take advantage of her. Besting them had been easy because they had each thought she was a simple weakling, and their underestimation allowed her to rob them of everything on their person before dashing off with a wink. Emma had been taken advantage of emotionally enough to last many lifetimes, and she was sure to be violated physically would finally drive her mad.

Unwilling to show any of her underlying worry, she pivoted and faced Hook as she heard him close the door. Crossing her arms in an effort to project an image of strength, she met his eyes and stated, "If you are intending to take advantage of me, I would prefer the chance to leap from the ship first."

She had been hoping for him to be agreeable or shocked, but it was her own mouth that fell open in bewilderment when the man threw back his head and laughed loudly, taking a minute to regain his composure.

"Gods, you're serious too, aren't ya lass?" he marveled, a wide smile spreading across his face. Emma found it even harder to wipe the expression of bafflement from her face when he smiled genuinely for the first time since she had laid eyes on him. He was beautiful. His eyes were nearly hypnotizing, and Emma was struggling to resist falling prey to his enchantment.

She then allowed her annoyance to show in her face. Emma Swan was _never _one to be laughed at. "I do not see the humor of these circumstances, Captain," she snapped, annoyed when he smirked again.

"Speaking of my title, I believe it would be time for introductions. I'm Killian Jones, and I would like to know who you are and how the hell you managed to sneak onto my ship," he inquired. There seemed to be no malice in his tone, only incredible curiosity.

"I didn't sneak anywhere," she snorted with a small smile of pride, "I walked on in broad daylight."

Killian's face lit up in recognition when she let out her small laugh, and she was slightly miffed he had realized her ruse so quickly.

"Well Emmett," he said with a small nod of introduction, "as much as I like that name, it clearly isn't yours. I've graced you with my true name, I would think you owe me the same privilege."

Emma had to grudgingly admit to herself that he was only being fair. She had the feeling that not many knew his real name as she had only heard those on board address him by his intimidating moniker. And although she hated to admit it, at this moment she was at his mercy, having no advantage, so she really ought to try to suppress her more fiery tendencies.

"It's Emma. Emma Swan."

"And why did you knowingly put yourself in immense danger by boarding my ship, a pirate ship no less, Miss Swan?"

His gravelly voice wrapped around her name as if it were precious, but Emma reminded herself that she had known men like this; they were charming and it felt good to be an object of their attention, but it was all a lie.

Emma knew she had to be delicate as she asked her next question, "Need you really know the motives behind my actions? Surely it won't affect the current predicament?" If he knew that she was in danger, that this was truly her last chance of survival, he would have complete control of her.

Killian looked thoughtful for a moment before slowly nodding his head in agreement. "And this truly is a predicament we are in, isn't it Miss Swan?"

When it became clear he was not going to speak further, Emma became nervous. Red and Granny had always mocked her for her lack of patience, remarking that it was a wonder she was able to remain collected long enough to hunt any game. Standing still before Killian, her eyes facing the ground, she began to adjust her footing and fidget.

As if taking pity on the fact that she was clearly apprehensive and uncomfortable, he interjected into the heavy silence, "I think it would be in our best interest if the crew knew I had taken you as a lover."

"What?" she screeched, unable to control her temper as he remained completely calm after decreeing such a statement.

He lifted a single eyebrow and continued on, ignoring her shrieking interruption, "I do not intend to force myself on you. I'll have you know I am a gentleman. However, if the crew believes you are mine, they wouldn't dare touch you. I must admit that many of the men on board do not treat women with the same respect I do," he finished, a dark look briefly crossing his eyes.

Emma flinched, ashamed of her own rashness as she had shouted at a pirate captain who was actually offering her kindness and safety. Granted, it was an incredibly unorthodox method to keep her safe, but she chastised herself for acting like a child.

Unable to meet his eyes, she took another calming breath before muttering out a quiet, "I'm sorry. You know, for jumping to conclusions." She raised her eyes to meet his, wanting to convey her sincerity. Though she could never trust this man, she was not naïve of the world's violence; many men in his position would have already raped or killed her.

His eyes softened and his voice was much gentler than she had heard it before as he replied, "Apology accepted."

The quiet that followed his statement felt charged. They were looking into one another's eyes with no anger or confusion for the first time. He seemed to take a half step forward before righting himself. It was a tangible change in his persona as she saw Killian Jones slip away and Captain Hook take his place.

"Well, it should go without saying that you will have to spend your nights with me," he smirked with an arrogant tone. "My bed is more than large enough for two," he added, throwing in a gleeful wink.

Emma, annoyed once again, did not swoon or show any response to his innuendos, instead narrowing her eyes and asking, "And you swear you will not force yourself upon me?"

Hook again adopted his sarcastic smile and raised his hook to his chest. "Pirate's honor, lass."

She nodded thoughtfully, and accepted that this was really the best scenario that was available. Even if she had to pretend she was Hook's, this was much preferred than being thrown to the crew or killed. Emma paced back and forth for a minute being meeting his eyes and nodding sharply, accepting his conditions.

"Now lass, I have to go above deck to explain to the crew the new circumstances and aid in cleaning up the ship after this storm; it would be in your best interest if you remain down here. In my dresser there are some shirts that will have to do for now, feel free to browse any literature to occupy your time."

Emma quietly thanked him and turned, taking a step in the direction of his books, when she heard him call out, "And lass?"

She turned her head and jumped in surprise when she realized he was right in front of her. He stepped even closer and she shuttered when his lips nearly pressed her ear, his hot breath on her neck.

Whispering in a throaty voice he added, "I will not force myself on you, but when you beg for it, I'll be here waiting."

Emma's eyelids fluttered shut, and before she was able to open them and summon any anger or denial, she heard him laugh and swing the door shut, leaving her alone in the room.

_Stupid goddamn cocky attractive pirate. _

* * *

_I know it's short, wanted to publish it sooner rather than wait and publish it alongside Killian's perspective. xx_


	7. Chapter 7

Killian let the door swing shut, and continued laughing as he climbed the stairs to meet the crew on deck. This woman was different from many he had encountered. Most women who were obviously beautiful walked as though the world was theirs. This lass seemed to care less about how others perceived her. How else could she have masqueraded as a man on his ship.

That was another one of her virtues. She was cunning as hell. Had to have gumption as well to risk life and limb.

As much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, he was intrigued by this girl. Fighting skills like hers had to have been developed over a length of time. He hadn't met someone as mysterious as she in years. Though lucky for him her emotions were written across her face as clear as they would be on parchment.

There was little doubt in his mind that she could handle herself on _The Jolly Roger. _He had to admit that even after his proclamation to the crew she would most likely be accosted or harassed, actions he was confident she would quickly ward off.

He rose to the top deck still deep in thought, snapped out of his reverie as he caught sight of his anxious crew. Many had looks of guilt, he guessed because they had not intervened when Vance and Rack had attacked Emma. However the reason his ship was efficient was not only his cruelty but his fairness, and to punish all of his men would be superfluous and over the top.

"Men, convene at center deck!" he shouted, voice booming.

When all of his men were at attention, the theatrics began.

He pasted a cocky and smug look on his face and with a smirk said, "As we all know, a woman was on our ship, unbeknownst to us. However, rather than punish her, I have found other, much more satisfactory uses." At this he threw a wink to the crowd, and the men responded with catcalls and laughs. "But let me make myself clear. This woman is _mine. _Any of you lot touch her, even brush against an arm, and you will regret it. And as we saw with Vance and Rack earlier today, those who disobey my orders will suffer severe consequences."

His tone had turned threatening, but inwardly he was relieved when his men simply nodded and in light tones said, "Yes, Captain", "Of course, Captain."

"Alright men, back to your stations. This storm steered us far from our course, and we should try to reach Violet Hill before the end of the month."

The hustling of his men and the sound of wind filling the sails caused a great peacefulness to settle in Killian's chest. He was an adventurer, and the ocean made him feel more alive than anything else in the world.

However his brief moment of reprieve vanished when his thoughts drifted to their destination, and the reality of his mission once again gripped his heart, filling it with malice and sinister satisfaction. After hundreds of years, he was finally going to achieve his revenge. Watching his crocodile bleed out with his heart caught on Killian's hook would be the greatest moment of his life. As years had gone by he had started to lose pieces of Milah. He couldn't remember which side she had parted her hair on, or her favorite colors and foods. The guilt of letting his love's memory fade had pushed him to the brink of insanity before he discovered the truth of the dagger that he could finally kill The Dark One with.

Now that he finally had an outlet to channel his rage into, he had just started to fall back into his routine of his pirate's life. Drinking, stealing, and causing general mayhem for the kingdom to deal made him feel in control of his life once more; he had thought he had everything figured out.

And then this Swan girl was thrown herself into his life. She was an enigma he was far from solving. He was determined to figure her out. He had not been lying when he had told her that if she wanted him, he'd be waiting. A good shag was always welcome on the ship, where he would go weeks without female company. The issue was that after his one night stands he could drop them back off in town and sail off. There never had to be any significance.

This would definitely be tricky. She seemed headstrong, but he loved a challenge. Bedding her might solve the riddle that was Emma Swan. He only hoped that they would be somewhere near a port town when he finally succeeded. Keeping the women he slept with around felt intimate, personal, and Killian knew he wasn't capable of ever loving again.

He was absentmindedly stroking his tattoo with his hook when Starkey approached him. Starkey was always a confidant and had not betrayed his trust in the multiple lifetimes they had known one another. Starkey sat on a barrel beside Killian, and with a sigh he sat down on one as well.

Starkey had a small smile on his face, an expression that looked nearly comical set against his enormous build and sinister-seeming face. He glanced at the Killian's far off gaze and quietly said, "I assume the lady has not come close to sharing your bed?" he inquired, a small snort at the end of his question.

Killian turned and glared half-heartedly at his friend and muttered, "How would you know? Perhaps she threw herself at her savior the moment we descended below deck."

"Well, the reason the girl made it on board was her spirit. No matter what disguise she was wearin', you can't fake that kind of fire. And based on the number of men she has overpowered on her own, I'm thinkin' she doesn't really need a savior. Hell, she's probably used to being the savior."

Killian knew that Starkey was right, but he couldn't resist leering and saying, "My dear man, we both know that she will be desperate for my bed soon enough."

"I don't know captain, she seems one of those 'on-their-own' types. Temper like no other, too. This lass will be givin' ya a run for your money."

Killian stood once again, stretching his arms behind his head and starting to head back to his cabin. "Nice talking to you, mate. But I should probably check on her and make sure she hasn't torn my chambers apart."

Starkey watched his retreating figure and laughed to himself, "Oh this one will most definitely hold her own."

* * *

Killian knocked on the door to his cabin, feeling ridiculous.

_It's my bloody door. It's been my room for centuries. And here I am, treating her like I'm some bloody innkeeper._

"Swan, are you decent?"

Her answer came a little bit too late, and her breath hitched when she shouted back, "Don't come in."

He immediately knew something was wrong, so trusting his instincts he opened the door anyway and was filled with dread when his suspicions were proven right. Emma was hunched over his dresser, one arm in a sleeve of one of his larger button down shirts. He heard her stifled whimper and without a thought he crossed the room.

When he placed a hand on her covered shoulder, she flinched away, curling into herself. Her eyes met his and he could she was in intense physical pain, looking like a cornered animal.

He stepped forward slowly, his palms lifted and he said quietly, "I am not going to hurt you, but I need to know what's wrong."

Slowly coming to her senses, Emma turned her body around and Killian had to bite back the horrified gasp that threatened to escape from his throat.

More of her bindings she had been using on her chest and torso had been removed so that nearly everything except her breasts were visible. He could care less about the fact that her body was almost bared to him. What drew his attention were the rapidly forming bruises on Emma's ribs and side. Dark purple, nearly black, it looked as though she has been splashed with ink.

She stood and began to walk shakily to the bed, which she slowly sat down on. "They weren't so bad, I could ignore them, but when I tried putting on a shirt I had to twist around and it felt like I was being crushed."

"Gods, lass, how in hell's name were they 'fine' before? Were these inflicted by my men?" The idea that he could be partially at fault for her extensive injuries was horrifying, and the thought that Rack or Vance could have caused this made him immediately decide they would be killed."

As unexpected as always, Emma let out her snorting laugh and said, "Of course this wasn't your men. They wouldn't have been able to injure me so substantially without finding a knife lodged in their throat. I was knocked out by the boom. That is how the men discovered me."

Her nonchalance was astounding, but at the same time he felt strangely annoyed. "You could have told someone that you seem to have cracked a few ribs."

His sarcastic tone made her eyes glare at him in response as she said, "I've had worse. Why would I willingly show weakness?"

"Because you could have died, you stupid bint!"

Emma's anger suddenly left her face and fatigue took its place; she slowly lowered herself down on the bed so she could relax, turning her head with a sigh and muttering, "Why do you care?"

Killian flinched away from her gaze, and frustrated he said, "I don't. I'm not the type that cares about anything, lass." With a sad smile he considered the bleak truth of that statement, and thought of how much he had transformed. The hook wasn't a major part of his metamorphosis from Killian to Hook, it was his heart, which had felt like it too had been crushed.

The silence between them was thoughtful, and each allowed the weight of their day to fall on them. Killian heard a yawn that Emma tried to conceal and turned. He tried to keep his voice from sounding concerned or like he felt pity for her - only having only briefly known her he already knew she bristled when there was any suggestion that she wasn't self sufficient – and he said, "It has been a hell of a day. I wear my briefs to bed, and you can wear a pair over your undergarments. If you don't mind, I'd rather go to sleep sooner as opposed to later, so can I help you get that damn shirt on before I have to clean a body off my floor?"

Thankfully, Emma was willing to accept his help, and he couldn't help but rile her up as he slid his own shirt over her gently, leaning forward and smirking as he said with a leer, "Don't know why I'm helping you dress when ordinarily if it was my choice we'd be doing the opposite."

Emma looked up and met his eyes and a small, sweet smile was on her face. He was off put until she said in an overly innocent tone, "Hook, I may be injured and without weapons at the moment, but I'm sure I could find some way to fatally injure you."

His baffled look must have been the reaction she was hoping for, because as she leaned back she laughed loudly. It was one of the most unladylike things he had ever heard come from a beautiful woman's mouth, and he laughed as well. Turning her back on him, she moved to his dresser and grabbed one of his pairs of briefs before looking over her shoulder and commanding, "Turn around."

"Miss Swan, didn't I already reassure of my gentlemanly nature?"

He knew she had to be rolling her eyes at him, and by the time she announced she was decent, she had already crawled under the covers of his bed.

Crawling in beside her, careful to keep his distance between them as he was quite sure she was capable of fulfilling her previous threat, he muttered a simple, "Good night, Swan."

So quietly he thought that he must be imagining it, he heard Emma murmur, "Thank you, Killian" before quickly succumbing to the healing sleep her body so desperately needed.

He was entranced by the way her voice said his name. An old warmth flared up, and he lay back on his pillow considering the circumstances he was now in. A beautiful woman was lying next to him in bed. He wanted to shag her senseless. But he also was beginning to dislike the idea of dropping her off immediately after he was able to seduce her. She was … interesting. And he still didn't know why it was that she boarded his ship. He suspected it was required she leave from someplace immediately, and he felt guilty at the idea of putting her in danger.

He stilled his pondering thoughts and wrapped his blankets around himself.

_I haven't been with a woman in weeks. That explains the strangeness. I'm not used to being in such close quarters with one whom I actually have to interact with._

For the first time in years he slept without nightmares plaguing him.


	8. Chapter 8

Emma woke up screaming.

The sheets were suddenly restraints and in her haze of sleep and fear she tore at them frantically before throwing wrenching herself out the bed she had been lying in. Her injured body screamed in pain but her only thought was to escape. After freeing herself from the confines of the blankets, she curled with her back against the wall, holding onto her knees and shaking. Memories she had been repressing for years had unearthed themselves during the only time Emma ever allowed herself to be vulnerable – sleep.

As her eyes began to slowly adjust to the cabin lit with the softness of sunrise, she made out the shape of Killian – Hook - in front of her. Her mind was not yet present on the ship – she was still in the prison on land that had held her for nearly a year. It was only a gentle contact on her knee that jolted her from the sheer panic consuming her.

"Lass, I need you to focus. Focus on me, right here. Slow your breathing."

Emma hadn't been aware she was hyperventilating, but after Hook drew attention to it she realized the ripping sound she had heard was in fact coming from her own chest as her body convulsed around itself in an attempt to get enough oxygen.

_I'm on The Jolly Roger. I'm on a ship. I'm far far away from the prison. I'm on The Jolly Roger. I'm on a ship. Far, far away._

Concentrating her focus, Emma slowed her breaths until she stopped shuddering and was able to gather her thoughts completely. It was only then that she became fully aware that Hook was on his knees before her, his hand on her knee and his eyes burning holes into hers.

Hook seemed to let out a breath he was holding and in a relieved voice asked, "Are you okay, Swan?"

Emma was now herself enough for her temper to fuel at his pitying voice. Infuriated with herself for allowing him to see her at her most pitiful state, she hit his hand off of her knee and stood. She crossed her arms and waited until he had risen to her level to declare in a nonchalant voice, "I'm fine, Hook. Just a nightmare."

She plastered a smile on her face and began to walk over to his dresser, ready to change before figuring out what she was to do today. Goosebumps rose up her arm and she shivered as his hook was suddenly trapping her wrist, not allowing for her to escape his penetrating gaze.

She whirled around and met his eyes once again and snapped, "What's your problem?"

"Swan, are you joking right now? What's _my _problem? What the hell happened in prison that has you nearly pitching yourself off of the deck?"

_Damnit. _

She hadn't realized she was talking out loud as she was trying to calm herself down. Gods, this man was one of the nosiest people she had ever had to deal with.

"That was nonsense. I was half asleep, I didn't know what I was saying."

He was pissed now. And though she hated herself and her hormones right now, she couldn't deny that the sight of him in only his briefs was one she wouldn't mind staring at. But at the moment her appreciation for his form was overwhelmed by the fact that she really wished the pirate would just shut up.

"Don't treat me as a fool, Swan. I've seen enough horrors in my lifetime to know the look of the haunting they can cause. It isn't anything to be ashamed by. Hell, I've been in worse shape before. Just be bloody honest with me for once!"

Something in his voice had changed, turned nearly pleading, and she had to look away from him as she made the decision whether or not to trust him with a story very few had hear. It took a her nearly a minute of inner debate, and it was only the memory of him coaxing her out of her hysteria that made her decide that telling him couldn't worsen her situation in any way.

"I was sentenced to prison for nearly a year. It wasn't a particularly large group in there at the time, both men and women. A few men tried to force themselves on me, but after they came to learn first hand that I could beat them within an inch of their life, word spread that I wasn't one to mess with. For a few months everything was fine – well, as fine as prison can be," she let out a snort before her tone turned somber, "until a new inmate was added to our ensemble. He trapped me one day in a corner. He'd found restraints somewhere and had my feet locked together before I even saw him. Bashed my hands against the wall." Her voice wavered slightly and she had to clear her throat, pausing for a moment so she could speak again.

In her silence, Killian lifted her chin slowly and met her eyes. "Did he hurt you, lass?"

Emma let out a humorless laugh. "No. He didn't have the chance. I didn't really think. Just acted, you know? I was grabbing him by his hair the second I was able. I used all of the strength I had and hit it against the wall. I screamed for the guards, and waited for him to rise in case I had to subdue him once again. He didn't. I'd killed him. Took his life just like that."

She trailed off, reliving the memory for a moment and shaking, before bracing her shoulders and continuing in a numb voice, "That was the day I became a murderer. I'd only been imprisoned for stealing, but I guess I showed my true nature once I was incarcerated. Still pity me, captain? How do you feel having a murderer sharing your bed?" Her tone had turned into a sneer, and she once again turned her back on him and crossed the room, grabbing another of his shirts and calling, "Can you please turn around?"

She was surprised to say the least when she felt his hand on her uninjured hip. He stepped in front of her and rested his hook on her shoulder, his face only inches from hers.

_Gods, how can he stand to be near me after hearing that?_

He remained his serious eye contact and began with a stern voice, "You are _not_ a murderer. Killing a man with no other choice does not make you a bad person. The remorse you feel proves that. I told you before, we all have demons. I'm a pirate, love, I've killed men in my many, many years. Do not let a coward like that plague your dreams." His serious expression left his face, as if he could read her mind and knew that Emma needed the atmosphere to be lightened, "Not when you could be having much more enjoyable dreams that I'm starring in. Especially if I'm not wearing clothing." He winked at her with a smile, quickly pulling on a shirt and breeches.

Emma ignored his last comment and scrutinized his face. "Just how old are you, Hook?"

"My dear, that is a story for another time," he replied, a wistful smile gracing his face. "You many meet me above deck when you are ready. But one thing first - I'm curious, what did you steal in the first place?"

Emma replied with a grin of her own, "Well, captain, that is a story for another time."

He laughed and headed towards his door, but before he could leave he heard Emma's voice ring out.

"Hook? Call me love or dear again and you'll find that hook shoved up your ass."

* * *

Killian rose above deck, deep in thought. He was completely and utterly _fucked. _After hearing part of her story and discovering another piece to the puzzle that was Emma Swan, he knew there was no way he could simply shag her and then dump her at the next sea port _The Jolly Roger _reached. This girl was a wonder. She had been broken to pieces and rebuilt herself even stronger than he suspected she had been before.

Killian knew he was an asshole to the women he had had sex with since Milah's death. He had never had any emotional connection, only faking it occasionally to land a particular lay. But he acknowledged that he simply could not do that to Emma. She was different.

He groaned, walking to the rail of the deck and placing his head in his hands.

_When did everything get so bloody complicated. Gods, this woman is going to be the death of me. _

Heavy steps approached, and he felt Starkey's enormous, calloused hand clap him on the back. "Woman troubles, Captain?"

Killian straightened himself and batted Starkey's hand off. Annoyed, he glared at his friend and let out an exasperated groan.

"Not in the sense you're imagining, mate. Emma – that's her name – is insufferable. She's jesting one moment and the next she seems as though she is going to throw something at me. And when I _finally _get her to say something that I think will explain why she's so different, it only adds to her mystery. She is going to be the death of me, I swear."

"Huh. So the lass is headstrong, complicated as the ocean itself, and won't put up with any bullshit. Remindin' you of anyone, Jones?"

Killian recoiled. He had not thought of the parallels between Swan and himself. He entertained the thought for a minute and the truth of Starkey's assessment became more and more clear as he contemplated it in depth. He let out a resigned sigh and turned to his closest friend and muttered, "I sometimes forget I keep you around for more than your pretty face."

Starkey's booming laugh echoed over the ship and he began to head over to his post to take over for the lad who manned the wheel when her was otherwise occupied. "You know how right I am, Cap't." he laughed.

* * *

Reaching the wheel, he could see the entire expanse of the deck from his position. His eyes were trained on the captain, whose brow was furrowed in concentration as he peered over the water. He was also able to see when Emma emerged from Killian's cabin in one of his shirts and her leather breeches.

He saw Killian turn when Emma called out to him. Even from yards away the way they looked at each other was unmistakable. He hadn't seen life in Killian's eyes for centuries.

"These kids are absolutely hopeless. " he said under his breath, before turning his attention ahead to the sea.

* * *

Emma emerged on deck, feeling infinitely better with the sea's cold and salty air soothing her skin. A few of the crew members nodded to her, and her mood was heightened all the more to see that they still treated her as they had when she was Emmett. They were wary, undoubtedly because of the warnings she was sure Hook had given them, but at least she didn't sense any animosity.

She caught sight of the captain and called out, "Captain Hook!" - careful to include his title. The last thing she wanted to do was undermine him in front of his men, making him appear weak or emotional. After the way he had listened to her earlier this morning, serious when she needed it and then insinuating the next moment to show that he wouldn't treat her any differently from the woman who had shimmied up to the crow's nest every day, she felt genuine gratitude.

Her warm feelings were only slightly soured when he turned and shouted in return, "Why good morning, love, glad you could make it out of my bed."

She rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath, and once she was sure that only he would hear her she muttered, "I know they have to think we're sleeping together but do you really need to lay it on so thick? Any my threat still stands; I am _not _your love."

Amused, he grinned and she tried to drown the lust that surged through her whenever he grinned in happiness rather than his sinister sneering smile. He replied in a lilting voice, "Oh but Swan I am in no way exaggerating - after a night with me it would be quite a feat to see you walking around on deck the next morning."

She gaped at his words, but her mind betrayed her as images of intertwined limbs and breathy gasps made a blush rise to her cheeks. Frustrated with herself, she glared at him in an attempt to show him that his words didn't affect her and put her hands on her hips. "I actually wanted to talk to you about my position on the ship, not your inflated opinion of yourself. I don't want to be your whore, even if it's only what the men think. I would like to resume my duties on the ship as a pirate, manning the crow's nest whenever it is needed."

This was clearly not what Hook had been expecting as his eyes widened and he let out a choked laugh. "Surely you are joking, lass? The boom almost killed you. You couldn't even put on a shirt last night, let alone climb a damned ladder stories high. I'll treat you as a pirate if you want me to – but I wouldn't let my finest of men push themselves so hard when they are extensively injured."

Emma glared at him and tried to call up an insult or challenge in her mind but found none. He was treating her like any other man on his ship, and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew there was a possibility she would not even make it halfway up the ladder in her current state when pain stabbed at her side upon lifting her arms above her head.

She took a deep breath before she spoke, not wanting to be overly fiery when he was at no fault other than telling her the truth of her vulnerability, a truth she didn't want to acknowledge. She sighed in annoyance, "Then what am I to do for the few days before I am ready to resume working?"

"Look around you. You are on the greatest ship to sail the sea," he said proudly, running a hand affectionately over the wood of _The Jolly Roger, _"You can enjoy the views, relax, perhaps join me in my cabin-"

"Not going to happen, Hook" she interrupted.

A smile on his face, he purred, "Why Swan, I didn't know your mind was so scandalous. I had no lewd intentions, I only meant you could keep me company. I spend quite a bit of time down there mapping our courses and measuring when and where we shall sail. I have more books than you could read in a year, I was simply going to offer some sort of entertainment. Now if you had other ideas…"

"I'll take my chances with the books, thanks," she said, laughing slightly at his suggestion.

_I think his innuendos are starting to actually grow on me. Fuck. I've already been on this ship too long. Must be going stir-crazy. _

He led the way down below to his room to a chorus of catcalls from the crew, causing Emma's stride to become slightly more rigid. Hopefully when she was back to work and seen as more than Hook's sex object, they would have a higher opinion of her once again.

When they entered, he merely gestured with his hook to the stacks of books as he sat down on his desk, cluttered with maps of the sea and lands Emma had never even dreamed of. She crouched before the leather bound volumes and began to skim through the titles. She didn't know what she had expected, perhaps journals of other pirates or even guides to different ships, but what she saw instead stumped her. The words of philosophers from millennia ago, poetry about the sea, and even some stories that she could remember enjoying when she had lived with Red and Granny.

Emma prided herself on her ability to read people. She could tell when they were lying easily, and normally she had people pegged before they said a word. But this man was different. No longer did she see him as a pretty face over an ass. Yes, he could was inappropriate, lewd, and at times infuriating, but she had misjudged him. A first for her. Squinting, she continued her reading until she had identified every title.

She stood and walked over to Hook, hesitant to interrupt him as he seemed deeply involving in using some sort of compass to measure a course she was unfamiliar with. She didn't even know what to say.

_You're not the ass I thought you were? You are interesting? I can't figure out whatever puzzle you are, please tell me? Damn, Emma, get a grip._

She didn't realize what she wanted to know until she had blurted it out only a few feet behind him.

"What's your favorite story?"

He turned, looking confused until he saw the book she was holding, the one she had read when she had lived with the people she considered family. He bit his lip, looking upward and to the side as he clearly searched his memory.

"Probably the one about the thieves who travel the world seeking adventure and love. Always sort of identified with it. The thief part, obviously," he responded, the latter part added quickly and with a slightly embarrassed look.

Emma met his eyes briefly before looking back down at the book she held in her hands. "That's mine too. For the same reason, clearly," she muttered before turning and walking towards his bed before gingerly sitting down and starting to reread the volume.

* * *

_I definitely misjudged him. What the hell kind of pirate IS he?_

* * *

_How the hell is it so infuriating to piece together the woman that is Emma Swan?_

* * *

__let me know how you think it's coming along, love all of you that have made it this far ;)


	9. Chapter 9

Though Killian had his suspicions before, it soon became glaringly obvious that Emma was not the type of person used to being coddled. Her incessant pacing every few hours and mutterings about going above deck and resuming her work was going to drive him bloody insane. He was trying to be sympathetic, knowing that he himself would most likely be going stir crazy, but that didn't make him feel any less edgy. His own stress was mounting as they were quickly approaching Violet Hill, the final port before they reached their destination. With Rack and Vance still being kept in the irons, the entire crew was beginning to feel restless and in need of a break.

In the three days since Killian had insisted she rest, they had spoken very little to one another, both trying to preoccupy themselves rather than admit that they were intrigued by the other.

On the third night, Killian finally cracked when he saw Emma's exposed bruises, and her struggling to bandage her ribs.

"You know Swan, as much as I love seeing you get all bothered, I would much prefer if it was by my doing rather than a few measly bruises."

Emma glared at him, but when she saw he was smirking rather than leering at her as she was expecting, she decided to let it go.

Killian saw her take a deep breath, and she looked pained when she finally turned to him and tried to maintain an intimidating and strong voice even as she asked, "Hook, would you care to verify your earlier claim as being a gentleman and please assist me in securing my bandages?"

Hook decided to goad her for a minute before offering his help, and his smirk widened into a smile when he said, "Why Miss Swan, are you admitting that I may have been telling you a truth? That you have been swayed by my incredible charm and dashing good looks? I always do love a damsel in distress."

Emma snarled and turned from him, her voice cold as she said, "Fuck off, Hook. I don't need anyone's help. I'm not some bloody damsel. I can save myself. And no, I'm not _swayed by your charm_ I just thought you'd be a decent goddamn human being."

Killian nearly leaped back in surprise. He had known that she was a stubborn and strong lass but he had not expected her to be so defensive. Usually he would have been furious with someone speaking to him in such a manner, but this only added to the peculiarity of the woman before him. Though they had remained in the small confines of his quarters for the last three days, both had sequestered themselves in opposite sides of the room and he had thought that she would be more comfortable with him than this blatant display of distrust.

This was not merely the anger of someone off-put by his innuendos, this was something much deeper. To his own immense surprise, Hook felt the faintest flicker of guilt for upsetting Emma on such a level that she would react so strongly.

Approaching her quietly he sat beside her on the bed. The stiffening of her shoulders and her upright posture betrayed that she had clearly felt his weight beside her, but she did not turn to meet his eye.

In a low voice that he hoped conveyed an apology – he was not a man to apologize outright very often, he said, "Swan, please turn around so I may assist you."

She turned to face him but made no motion to show that she was accepting his aid. Her eyes narrowed and she muttered, "I am not a weakling. I can handle myself and I will not be treated otherwise. I must already be seen as simply your whore by the crew of this ship, but I will not have you thinking of me on that level as well."

Killian nodded sharply, and she shifted closer to him, only wincing slightly as she lifted her arms above her head so he could continue to wrap bandages around her ribs and the side of her abdomen. Their silence was not awkward, both were deep in thought. Their eyes met, and the questioning looks in Emma's eyes showed she was clearly trying to find evidence of whatever motive she was imagining in his own.

He stared back, caught in the trap of her gray eyes. He was entranced. Her beauty was so deeply ingrained, not just on her surface but in the way she moved, her fierceness, and at that moment Killian knew that he was doomed. He needed her to trust him. He wanted to keep this warrior before him safe. She was something that should be protected, and he would not let any more harm befall her.

_I don't _care _about her. She's just…. Different. I DO NOT care about her. The very mission I'm on is revenge. The death of my love – the death of my capability to love at all._

Emma blushed, and he realized that they had been looking into one another's gaze far longer than a mere glance. His newfound revelation made him feel compelled to reassure her.

"You don't need to be strong all the time," he murmured, continuing to bandage her, but meeting her eyes once again.

Emma let out a sigh, not one of exhaustion or anger, but one that seemed sad and nostalgic. A small smile painted her lips that were marred only by the quickly fading scar that was a reminder of the beating she had received day before, but it showed no happiness. Her own whisper nearly gave him goose bumps and he could barely hear her response of, "I really do though."

Finished with the necessary dressing of her wounds, Killian moved away from her, lying with his hand and hook behind his head, which rested on his pillow on what had become his side of the bed.

Relaxing into his position, he turned his head to appraise her. She seemed to be reprimanding herself, and he guessed that it was because she had briefly opened up to him. This was not the type of lass to throw herself into trusting someone, and he acknowledged that her admission, however innocent, must have cost her quite a bit to say out loud.

Killian knew that the next few minutes could change everything. If he did anything she classified as untruthful or offensive after the moment of vulnerability she had just chosen to share, there would be no hope for him to ever capture her sliver of trust again.

A smile spread on Killian's face as he knew exactly what would show her that he would not use this information against her. This girl was not one to be strung along with words, only actions at this point would display his intentions. He sat up and nearly threw himself off of the bed with his renewed energy. Pulling on his leather jacket over his relatively thin button down shirt, she looked at him quizzically and clearly confused by his suddenly giddy demeanor.

"Well, Swan, come on, I don't have all day," he said, no real impatience in his tone.

She slowly shrugged into the jacket he had given her days ago, now able to move more freely with her wounds healing and covered. "What on earth has you so excited?" a bemused expression crossing her face as he nearly bounced on the heels of his feet in sheer excitement.

His smile seemed to grow even larger and he caught sight of Emma's blush, something that made him feel pleased, and announced, "We're finally breaking you out of this place. Though I don't know why you would want to escape when you have the sexiest man alive sleeping right beside you."

Emma could not be annoyed with him right now if she tried as she became equally excited. "Oh thank the gods, I'm fairly certain I was close to losing my mind."

He opened the door that led to the deck and bowed with a gesture of his hook, "After you, my lady."

"What do you know, Captain Hook actually has manners," she snorted, but she sent a smirk his was to let him know that there was no malice or actual insult behind her banter.

Killian immediately enjoyed the repertoire, having not conversed with a woman conversationally in decades. The last woman he had spoken to for any length of time without the intent of seducing her and then leaving her was Tiger Lilly in Neverland, and that was only because the Chief was right beside them and his men would have run him through with their spears if he so much as leered at her. He laughed softly at the memory, and followed Emma to the deck, breathing deeply as the cold wind of the sea assaulted his senses. This was where he belonged.

If his own joy had not made him happy enough, he turned and saw Emma in a pose similar to his own. She had walked to the edge of the ship, face upturned to the sky with her eyes closed peacefully, her smile lit only by the moon as her curls billowed around her face. She reminded him of a mermaid, but the knives at her side and the sight of his leather jacket on her made it even more picturesque.

He cared about her.

His revelation made him feel as though someone had knocked the air from his lungs. He had been resisting his feelings since the moment he had seen her, spinning in a deadly dance as she subdued his men and locked her gaze on his. His old loyalty to Milah had made him feel incredibly guilty all of these years whenever he had found any meager happiness, as it reminded him of her demise.

It was this woman in front of him – this infuriating, belligerent, glorious woman – that forced him to truly look at his situation.

He was no longer in love with Milah.

He loved her, of course, and he knew that he always would. She had been the first person to make him feel as though he was worth anything. As much as it caused him pain to admit it, he knew she would have been furious with him of she could see him now. Not for his pursuit of the Crocodile, no, his revenge was justified, but his descent into cruelty and the hardening of his heart would have disappointed her beyond anything else.

A deep peacefulness settled over him with the realization that he no longer had to deny himself feeling, and with a sense of rightness that he had not possessed since leaving for Neverland, he walked up to Emma and stood beside her, leaning his own elbows onto the bulwarks that lined the deck and peering at the sky and then turning to her, only to find her already looking at him.

She looked back to the sky, her eyes tracing constellations, and in a voice that conveyed transparent sincerity she said softly, "Thank you, Captain."

* * *

Emma had always had an affinity for the stars. No matter where she was or how terrible her situation growing up, they were constant companions. Even when she could not see them, knowing they were there had instilled the only sense of stability in her life of running from place to place.

Her life had never been quite so unstable as it was in this moment. She knew where she would sleep every night, sure, but she had no control of her situation, something she had never been faced with before. Her fate was in the hands – well, hand – of the man standing beside her.

She was scared. Not because she worried he would harm her. It was quite the opposite. He was making her happy. The last time she had relied on another to bring her happiness, it had ended with her in prison, fighting for her life and eventually taking another's.

That was another thing that terrified her. He was getting to know her. It seemed as though he wanted to know her. She had already opened up to him in a way she had not since meeting Red years ago, and those had been entirely different circumstances. Every time he looked at her though, she felt as though she was burning from the inside out. He was the most attractive man she had ever seen, but it wasn't his looks that made her feel this way. It was the intensity at which he looked at her. When he pleaded for her honesty or even when she caught him looking at her, he always seemed to look deeper than simply her eyes.

He was trying to figure her out just as she was trying to figure him out. It hadn't really occurred to her before her first nightmare, but she now realized she was just as much a mystery to him and he presented to her. She had betrayed her own sadness and vulnerability, shown him her cracked soul for a moment unintentionally. She seemed to slip around him more often than she had in years combined. Many would use it against her, or even dismiss it as insignificant.

She had thought that was what she wanted. She would have been content for him to simply treat it as though it had not happened. But then he had shown her understanding. He had not betrayed her brief showing of weakness when she had revealed her murder, nor when she had admitted the farce behind some of her seemingly constant strength. She almost laughed when she thought about it. Captain fucking Hook, one of the most dreaded men in all of the realms, was the same man who made her feel as if some of her cracks were closing.

But maybe this wasn't Captain Hook. Maybe this was the man he had been before taking up his mantle as a pirate. Maybe she had just met Killian Jones.

After she had thanked him, they remained in a comfortable silence, both watching the sky and its reflection on the dark sea that illuminated by the nearly full moon. A deep pang of sadness cut through her when she realized that Red would be transforming without her by her side. She knew that she couldn't see Red or Granny again until she was no longer being pursued, but that knowledge did nothing to appease the deep hollowness she felt at having to leave her makeshift family. She may be chased until the day she died, whether that was soon or in decades.

She turned to Hook, breaking their silence as she asked, "Hook, what is our destination?"

He replied automatically, almost with a bored tone, "Violet Hill, the port town. Need to trade and drop off Rack and Vance. The crew is uneasy with them still on board. We all need a few nights of rest."

"I know that is where we are going now, but I've seen you pouring over our maps. What is the larger destination? I may be uneducated in the typical sense, but I'm not ignorant. I know what a larger scheme looks like," she said, the final part with a smile as she remembered all the plotting she and fellow orphans had done when they planned larger heists.

Hook turned and met her gaze, and she saw a deep look of contemplation. She immediately realized that this was not a simple looting journey. Recalling the understanding he had showed her earlier that night she quickly said, "You don't have to tell me, I was only curious. I didn't mean to pry."

He bit down on his lip, and Emma cursed her hormones when she felt the urge to jump him. He slowly nodded to himself and finally drawled, "How about this. A truth for a truth. I'll tell a bit of my tale and you share yours."

Emma considered this. If he felt as though he needed to make a deal in order to tell her, it was clearly a subject that was significant to him in some way. If his earlier behavior was any indication, she could afford to lend him a bit more trust.

_This is only temporary. I can just shut him out again whenever I want. Really. I can._

She squared her shoulders and decided to go out on a limb as she said, "Fine. A truth for a truth. Answer my question and I'll answer any one question you want to know the answer to."

Hook nodded and looked back out to the water before turning suddenly and meeting her eyes. "This does not count as my question, but have you ever been in love, Swan?"

The question caught her off guard, and she responded with, "I thought I was once," letting out a short, bitter laugh she finished, "but I don't think it can really be love if the one you are infatuated with doesn't feel the same way."

She was glad to see Killian accept her answer without further prodding – for now – and he stared back out over the ocean when he began to speak.

"I was in love a long, long time ago. Her name was Milah," he gestured with his hook to the tattoo she had been quietly wondering about since she first spotted it, "and for a while we were happy. But he had been a married woman, with a son. She was married to a coward, but he was a good father, and when she begged me to take her away, I obliged. Her husband would not fight for her, and so we left." He smiled wistfully, but then his face became angry and anguished as he said, "Her coward of a husband however, was no longer the man he had been when we left, and the next time I encountered him, he was barely a man. We dueled, but just as he bested me Milah tried to come to my aid. He took her heart and crushed it before me, and then took my hand as well." His eyes clenched shut and his teeth ground together before he let out a heavy breath and opened them once again, a steel resolve having replaced the raw emotion. "So now, Swan, we are sailing to retrieve a weapon that will finally allow me to exact my revenge on my Crocodile. After reaching Violet Hill we shall be finding the dagger that will kill Rumpelstiltskin once and for all."

Emma let out a gasp of horror and he turned his head to meet her eyes. She felt as though she were choking, her words not leaving her mouth. She had put them all in danger. She had transferred her own burden onto the crew, and if they were found it would multiply tenfold.

"I have to leave."

Killian's surprise morphed into a look of deep hurt and then rage.

"So that's fucking it, Swan? Hear my story, skip off, and hold my secret to your heart for whenever you choose to use it against me?"

"No, Hook, wait –"

He turned to leave, but Emma's arms shot forward and grasped the sleeve of his jacket, spinning him around and meeting his angry eyes. Upon seeing the expression of horror and fear rather than the contempt he had expected, he froze.

"Swan...? Are you okay?"

"No, no, no, no. You need to leave me. As soon as we reach Violet Hill. Maybe I could take one of the lifeboats and leave tonight," she muttered to herself, hands now twisting around themselves in sheer panic and anxiety.

Hook grabbed her upper arms and gave her a quick shake, snapping her out of her growing hysteria. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

Her whisper rasped and her voice cracked as she forced herself to look him in the eye and reveal the treachery she had not known she was committing, "Hook, the reason I snuck onto your ship wasn't for the adventure. There is a bounty on my head. I've been fleeing from The Dark One. If he someone locates me he will come for me. I've put us all in danger," she took a shuddering breath and her voice became strong as she stated, "so you have to leave me."

Hook became quiet, and Emma looked to her feet as she prepared herself for his judgment. She would not blame him if he chose to make her walk the plank or off her immediately.

She leaped nearly a foot in the air when she felt his hand softly land on her shoulder. His hook gently lifted her chin to meet his eyes and he said quietly, "I'm not leaving you, Swan. I intend to find my dagger, and kill The Dark One. You can watch if you like," a smirk covered his face, but his eyes continued to be locked on hers, showing blatant honesty as he continued, "when he's dead, I'll have my revenge, and you'll have nothing to worry about."

Emma stepped back from him, glaring. How could he be so stupid.

"You cannot put the ship in danger because of me. If he finds me, he finds me, but I will not let the entire crew die because of me. You deserve your revenge; do not let your pride cloud your judgment."

He looked bemused, which only made her anger increase as he said almost with a laugh, "Why do you seem so dedicated to jump ship? Surely _The Jolly Roger _has not treated you so terribly?"

"I will not have you in danger, you complete and utter stupid _ass_!"

Her words grew to nearly a shriek, and as soon as the words left her mouth, Emma froze, shocked at herself.

She cared about him. Captain Hook, no, Killian Jones, was standing before her, laughing at her only a moment ago, and she cared about him. Deeply.

_Oh shit._

Emma cleared her throat and turned from him as his own shocked expression mirrored the one she wore only moments before.

"I think I should like to go to sleep. I'd like to rest before tomorrow. I would like to try to resume my duties in the morning, if that is okay."

She quickly looked over her shoulder to see his slow nod, an unfocused expression on his face still. She nearly ran to the door and stripped off the jacket she wore as well as her breeches, remaining in his shirt as she crawled into the bed.

_I am so stupid. He is going to leave me as soon as his revenge is through – his revenge for his TRUE LOVE, and then what? I was cracked the first time, I don't think there would be anything left. I'm not capable of love. It is only an attraction. I'll get over it in days._

Emma could spot a liar from miles away, and deep down she knew she was lying to herself. She curled into a ball beneath the covers, and promised herself that she would not let her emotions cloud her judgment ever again.

She heard him enter the room minutes later and walk to the bed before sliding into his side. He turned to face her back and she feigned sleep. She could feel his eyes trained on her before he settled into his own sleeping position. Just as she began to drift off to sleep she heard him whisper to what he thought was her sleeping form, "I don't know who hurt you, but I am not him. I _will not _leave you."

She felt him shift, presumably turning from her to settle into the position he usually slept in.

* * *

Halfway into the night, both Emma and Killian were shifting in their sleep, and only when his hand met hers and loosely held it did they both fall back into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

let me know how you lovelies that have made it this far are liking it! it's always fun to hear some of your predictions. their journey is far from over ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Killian awoke and rose above deck just the sun rose itself. The men with the day shift were in the midst of replacing those men that worked tirelessly throughout the night. He was glad to catch Starkey just as he was approaching the wheel; the man was usually more even tempered when he hadn't been on his feet for long.

"Mornin' Captain," he said with a stiff nod, cracking his knuckles as he reassumed his rightful spot steering the ship.

Killian nodded in return and continued on, saying, "We'll be arriving in Violet Hill at day's end if my predictions are right. As always," he included with a cocky smirk. Starkey rolled his eyes but did not interrupt as his friend continued, "and I believe Swan is well enough to resume her position. Instilling her as a member of the crew once again ought to protect her as the men relax at the town, will it not?"

Starkey's mouth was turned down in a thoughtful frown before saying, "That would be your best bet, Jones. Besides, I have the feeling that she'll try to shimmy up the ladder whether you give her permission or not. Might as well be there in case she plunges."

Killian felt his face take on a horrified expression before hearing Starkey's snorting laughter. Eyes filled with amusement he said, "Gods, I'm only jesting. She'll be fine. Emmett was a fine sailor, I'm sure she didn't suddenly lose her abilities aboard a ship along with her false identity."

Killian grumbled, ashamed to be so transparent in relation to his recent epiphany. Caring about Emma was foolish. She may care about the crew and the lives of him and his men, but he was sure it was not affection, it was simply her being an overly compassionate human being. Although her outburst last night had sparked a small hope in him.

Hope was the most dangerous thing anyone had offered Killian in centuries.

He knew it was probably misplaced. Hell, at times it seemed as though she could barely stand to be in the same room as him, but she had shown concern for his life. Genuine concern. She was not one of the women he seduced quickly and easily, who promised themselves to him after a half hour of speaking.

Each word that fell from her lips came from somewhere deep within. She chose words carefully, and in her silence he knew she was not simple minded, rather she seemed to be as lost and wandering in her thoughts as he often found himself in his own.

And so he was left in limbo. He cared for this woman on his ship, and his meager hope would now sustain him for as long as she did not outright confess hatred.

He glanced up at the crow's nest and a smile befell his face. Emma would soon be a part of the crew once again. He hoped that with more distance between them and the fresh air, some of the stress and anxiety they both harbored that kept their tempers short would be slightly lessened. He enjoyed conversing with her, and even if it was at times secretly amusing to him to see her anger and responses to his sexual suggestions, he knew that in order for their fragile bond of trust they had established last night to not wither, they should avoid all major conflicts.

It was the flash of gold that drew his attention to her as she emerged on deck, fully dressed and looking like a pirate. An oversized button down was covered with a long leather coat and paired with tight leather breeches. The collection of daggers that hung at her side was impressive, and Killian knew she most likely had several more stored on her person.

Looking her up and down, he sure as hell would not mind strip searching the lass to find her concealed weapons at the moment. The sight of his clothing on her still turned him on, and he struggled to look impassive as she approached him with a wary face.

"What is on your mind, Captain?" she asked, squinting into his eyes as the harsh glare of the sun obscured her own vision.

Unable to resist the open invitation, Hook blatantly trailed his eyes over her form and let out a melodramatic sigh of longing as he answered without missing a beat, "Oh, Swan, it isn't what I hope will wind up on my _mind _later tonight that has me preoccupied."

The blush she tried desperately to hide was worth the smack he earned on his upper arm as he jumped back laughing. His smiles were always drawn out easily by this girl. Tough as any pirate, he felt a small sense of pride that he could make this woman – one who he was sure could take out nearly any man on his ship – flustered with simple innuendos.

Her lips were pressed together and she tried to keep a stern look on her face, but the twitch of her lips betrayed her underlying amusement.

"You know, Hook, each day that I become closer, and closer to you," she leaned in to him, and he felt his own breath caught in his throat as her words ghosted along the exposed skin of his neck, becoming a husky whisper, "I begin to wish that I had jumped ship when I had the chance."

She pulled back from him and shot him a wide smile over her shoulder as she sauntered to the base of the main mast, obviously intent to soon ascend the ladder.

Killian ordinarily would be furious at being bested at his own devices, but this game they were playing did not truly have a winner, and he did not want it to end. As long as they were friendly and joking with one another, he could entertain the idea that she could someday care for him. He knew that if he pushed too hard and their precarious position tilted one way or another, he may never see the dazzling grin that she had shot his way ever again.

He wistfully shook his head to clear his thoughts and followed her to the mast.

"Alright Lass, you're all bandaged up, night full of sleep, and apparently have enough energy to torture me, so whenever you're ready-"

Emma let out her uneven, snorting, altogether hilarious sounding laugh after his complaint and stepped onto the first rope rung of the ladder, already climbing slowly before he could finish his spiel.

She looked down, and seeing his annoyance, she reminded herself that they were on pleasant terms, and she didn't want him in a sour mood this early in the day. When she was only ten feet from the deck she sat on one of the rope rungs and gestured for him to meet her eyes.

Killian was staring up at her with eyes full of suppressed laughter and life with her curls in a windy tangle, and let go of his minor displeasure. She had been nearly sedentary for days and if it was him he would have been to the top of the mast with no concern whatsoever with what anyone had to say.

"Hook, we're reaching Violet Hill by tonight, correct?" He nodded in affirmation and she continued, "I will come back down if I don't think I can make it all of the way, but if I do, I'll stay until the second lunch shift then head back up after I've eaten. I would really like your permission to stay up until I can spot land, however."

Her tone had become resigned and almost apologetic for undermining him, and he was grateful for her clear showing of treating him as her captain. At times she seemed more concerned with the crew's perception of their imaginary relationship than Killian was. He would have to remember that they could not think he was growing soft. With a new fire in his eyes, he nodded sharply at her and kept his eyes trained on her until she was more than halfway up before turning to the crew on deck.

"Listen up, mates! We're to make it to Violet Hill tonight. Our ship is capable, and if we do not reach our destination, I will find whoever's human error had made it so."

Most of the men nodded quickly and resumed their work with more vigor, but Killian was pleased to see some of the new recruits nearly shaking as they resumed their duties. It was always fun to assert himself as the vicious pirate captain that the rumors made him seem. Fear instilled an early loyalty, and by the time they realized most of his efficiency was simply fairness and brutality when needed instead of the psychopathic random acts of violence they expected, they were already committed to the ship's wellbeing.

His gaze wandered to Emma's position, which he noted with satisfaction was comfortably perched in the crow's nest. He then realized that when he took the crew to the local town and pub she would definitely have to accompany him, especially because he would be dropping off Vance and Rack at nearest holding cell of the town's prison. This would be the first time seeing her outside of his ship, and he was fascinated to see exactly what kind of woman Emma Swan really was.

* * *

Emma Swan was not an idiot. She was not some stupid little teenage girl who would fall for the charming nature of a bad boy. She had been down that road, and if the same thing happened to her again she would have nothing left to put back together. She cared for Hook, but she could never act on her feelings. He wouldn't feel the same way, maybe act like it for her to fall into his bed, but he would leave in the end. They all left, despite whatever he may have muttered when he was half asleep.

She had convinced herself she was either dreaming or he was when he had spoken to her when he believed her to be asleep.

Thank god they would be on land soon. She needed reprieve from the ship. She needed to forget her doomed fate and the danger she was forcing these men unknowingly into every waking moment. Based on the stories she had heard, the first place they would visit would be the bar. Gods, she could really use a drink. She had always been able to hold her liquor fairly well, and this excursion would allow her a brief moment of forgetfulness.

_Maybe if I just separate myself from Killian for a while I'll be able to clear my head of this little crush. Oh shit – when did I start thinking of him as Killian?_

Emma groaned and buried her head in her hands. One of the things she loved about the crow's nest was that she was untouchable. The men couldn't see her completely, and she was allowed a measure of peacefulness and aloneness with her thoughts; something she felt she could desperately benefit from after her little outburst last night and her revelation.

She cared about Killian.

All right, no big deal. She had tackled worse problems before. Been in tighter situations. Although she much preferred the 'punch it until it can't stand up' type of problem over one's having to do with emotion. Emma was fairly self aware, and she wasn't ignorant to her incredibly stunted emotional capabilities. She couldn't trust her own feelings, much less trusting them with a man who would leave her a wisp of foolish, juvenile _feelings._

Emma decided to preoccupy her mind with mundane tasks rather than focus on her personal problems before they drove her absolutely insane. She took her knives from her belt along with the materials she needed to sharpen them. She made sure to be meticulous, in all honesty a little bit obsessive, trying to occupy as much time as she possibly could. When the sun indicated it was past noon, she slowly crept down the ladder. Descending relied much more on the precision of her arms and shoulders, causing a sharp pain in her ribs nearly every rung of ladder she stepped down.

The final leap onto the deck made her deeply exhale in relief as she lowered her arms, resting her aching shoulders at last.

Stretching out her limbs, she received a few nods of greeting from the crew members she had been friendly with when she had lived as Emmett on board the ship. She tried to stifle the grin that she knew would threaten to split her face if she let it settle on her expression. She was finally a part of the crew again. She had not wanted to admit it, but it had bothered her deeply to go from being an integral part of the crew to a weakling who was only on _The Jolly Roger _for as long as she was having sex with the Captain.

She strode up to Killian and said with genuine excitement, "Well I guess I'm not useless anymore."

Without a pause he answered, "Never were, love."

She felt like shivering although the sun was now pounding on her back. She didn't know how he had this effect on her, but she would ignore it until she could control it and subsequently banish it from her system.

She settled on raising an eyebrow in warning and sitting on a barrel beside him. He handed her a large section of the bread he was eating, along with a small cup of rum, which she accepted gratefully. Their silence was comfortable, and when their eyes met both saw a small smile grace the other's face before looking off. Emma let out a low cough after a few more minutes of eating in silence and said, "I'm going to return to my post, captain."

Killian nodded at her and said, "Swan, we'll be reaching Violet Hill before sundown, so as soon as you spot it you can descend and help us prepare to dock after telling us where the ship should be headed."

"I know the drill, Captain," she said with an undercurrent of sarcasm. With a joking bow she then walked over to the ladder and was soon resting in her oasis of peace once again overlooking the sea.

Scanning the horizon and singing softly to herself, the time passed quickly and in what felt like ten minutes the sun had crossed the sky and Emma could make out the barest silhouette of land.

"Violet Hill up ahead, one o'clock!" her voice boomed, resulting in a cheer from the men and Starkey turning the wheel.

She nearly slid down the ladder in her rush to be on land once again, and she was surprised and touched when the crew patted her on the back and congratulated her with, "How's the first sight feel, lass?"

She approached Hook and asked in a tone far more eager than she meant it to, "And what is next on the agenda, Captain?"

His answering grin seemed bemused and internally she groaned when she realized just how childish she had sounded.

"Well, lass, there is a bounty on your head, is there not? So tell me, what was your usual apparel before boarding my ship as a man?"

"Plain skirts or breeches, and a bright blue cloak my – well, my friend had made for me." She felt a now-familiar pang of sadness whenever she thought of the life she had to leave behind. Red and Granny were the only genuine kindness she had known, and she desperately wished that their love could have made them blood family.

Emma immediately became wary when Killian's trademark smirk took over his face, and when his eyes swung to meet hers he looked like a child who had just played a trick.

"So there would be no reason that a fully outfitted pirate who happened to share your hair color miles from your home would cause anyone suspicion?"

Having realized his plan she narrowed her eyes and could not decide if she should be annoyed or amused. If he wanted to dress her up like a full fledged pirate's lover in order to make her uncomfortable, he was going to be surprised.

"Of course, feel free to grab anything from my quarters, though if you'd like I can accompany you and help you try on a few things?"

She rolled her eyes and descended the stairs that led to his cabin, ordering, "Give me ten minutes, I'll be right out."

The look in Killian Jones's eyes when he set his eyes on her was worth all of the discomfort and embarrassment she would have ordinarily felt when dressing up. She had found one of his vests and wore it with only her undergarments beneath it, matched with her tight leather pants tucked into her high boots. She was wearing his leather jacket over her ensemble, and she had layered multiple silver necklaces that all fell on her cleavage. To finish the illusion she had smudged on some of his black kohl eyeliner and tried her best to disentangle her curls, leaving them wild around her face.

She had nary taken a step onto the deck when she suddenly found herself with her back pressed against the door to Killian's cabin, his hand propped beside her shoulder and his body only inches from hers.

His eyes roamed her body hungrily and when his gaze met hers once again it looked as though he wanted to devour her. She had to focus in order to calm her own breathing, which had begun to rasp with her onslaught of pure lust.

"So Hook, do I look like a pirate?"

Killian let out a growl and trailed his hook slowly down her cheek and then over her neck, brushing her hair behind her shoulder.

"Swan, I could think of one thousand words to describe you right now, but pirate is not the first that comes to my mind."

Emma decided to feign ignorance, turning completely around toward the door and saying in a concerned voice, "I wouldn't want to upset your mission, I can change-"

The door which she had just began to creak open was slammed shut with an echoing boom. She shivered as his breath was suddenly on her neck, his stubble gently scraping her sensitive skin. "Don't you dare, ever change Swan," he murmured softly, lips gently brushing over the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Suddenly their discussion no longer felt like one of charged flirtation. His words had gone much deeper than that, and Emma was shocked that in a moment such as this he had not yet crudely propositioned her, instead injecting a flood of emotion that was exciting and absolutely terrifying. She froze, and it was clear he felt it as he let out a soft sigh. He gently placed a chaste kiss on her neck and stepped back, allowing her to turn and look him in the eyes.

Emma felt as if she were frozen on the spot, and she was captured in his eyes for a few moments before he cleared his throat and said in a louder, clear voice, "I'm going to prepare us to make port. Stay with Starkey, he's the one leading the men to the bar to relax and unwind. I'll be joining the lot with my group after we release our prisoners into the custody of Violet Hill's own prison."

His words had shattered the charged atmosphere, and Emma forced herself to nod tersely. He quickly spun on his heel and climbed the steps, and she could hear orders shouted to the crew through her clouded senses as she tried to fully adjust to what had just happened.

She could not keep slipping in front of him.

But what if it wasn't just her? She had acted like a horny teenager, practically invited him to ravish her, and instead he had acted like he cared. Emma stood with her thoughts to herself for a minute more before rising to the deck, greeted by a chorus of jeering catcalls. Rolling her eyes, she approached Starkey at the wheel and said, "I've been ordered to follow your lead, sir."

He laughed in response and Emma remembered when she had thought the man before her was an idiotic, violent brute before he had spoken. She laughed with him as he joked, "Miss, you don't strike me as the type who typically follows orders."

She shrugged, growing serious for a moment as she muttered, "Anything to keep me as far from Rack and Vance as possible. I know Hook is the one taking them off to the holding cell of whatever prison is nearby."

"Don't ya worry lass, they'll won't be able to harm you ever again."

Emma laughed and met his eyes with a raised eyebrow.

"Who said anything about me being the one I would be worried about?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Rated M. **

* * *

Killian's hand hurt like hell. However, any pain had been worth wiping that sick smile off of Rack's face.

_The Jolly Roger _had landed at Violet Hill right on schedule, and Killian's group, consisting of four other men and then Rack and Vance who were still restrained, had immediately sought out the prison. It was not difficult to find – the town was small and the first person they asked had pointed them in the direction they needed to go. All had been going well, their journey unhindered and within forty five minutes the group reached the prison and transferred Rack and Vance to the custody of the town's law.

Hell had broken loose when the guards had removed the gags from the prisoners throats just as Killian and his troupe were leaving the building.

"I sure hope your whore's fucking skills are worth losin' two men, Captain!"

His blood froze in his veins for a moment before suddenly feeling as though it was burning its way through his body. He had turned slowly, but the moment his eyes had locked on Rack's sneer he launched himself at the man, knocking his guards aside and pressing him against the prison's wall by the throat.

"What did you just say?"

Rack had realized that no matter what he answered he would be beaten, and then never have to face Hook again.

Each word loaded with malice he snarled, "Well Captain, I hope what's between her legs is magic, because otherwise all you've done is traded two working men for a cheap, manipulative whore."

Hook slammed his fist into Rack's mouth, wanting to keep the man from speaking of Emma ever again. However, immediately after his hit landed and he pulled his arm back for another, the guards gripped him by his upper arms and launched him to the other side of the room.

"Leave now, sir, or we'll have to take you into custody as well."

Killian rubbed his bloodied knuckles on his pants and followed his men out the door. He needed liquor in his system as soon as possible.

* * *

There had been nothing but silence as Killian and his four other men journeyed to the tavern that Starkey had said he would be taking the crew to in order to wind down after their lengthy time at sea. Upon entering the dingy establishment, Killian immediately sought out the bar, and after flirting with the bar maiden he acquired an extra large whiskey free of charge.

He settled onto a stool next to one of his crew and nodded at the man, both draining their alcohol as quickly as they could. He groaned, leaning his head into his hands on the bar. Ever since Emma had entered his life everything had gone to hell.

Whether one moment screaming at him and seemingly wanting to kill him, and then looking like pure sex and flirting with him, she was always putting him on edge. He had wanted to have her right against the door of his cabin as soon as it was physically possible, and he had surprised himself when he had instead declared that she shouldn't change rather than demand she remove her pants.

She had been just as shocked as he was. He knew that she had trust problems, every action she took indicated that she was only truly comfortable relying on herself. But the moment he had felt her freeze he was reminded of every doubt he had. Was she only enjoying flirting with him for the adventure? She was a fierce lass, perhaps she enjoyed the challenge of making Killian Jones feel something for the first time in centuries. She had seemed to care for him, but hell what if this entire time he had been wrong? Every time he had made the effort, he had extended a gesture to show that what he was feeling was more than just lust. It hadn't been just lust for what seemed like forever now.

His eyes scanned the crowded tavern, and finally through the crowd of villagers and his crewmen he was able to see a flash of gold. Craning his neck, he was finally able to rest his eyes on Emma. She was sitting at a table, sitting besides Starkey and laughing with him.

He cared about Emma. The knowledge that he had the capability to care for someone when he had thought he lost it long ago no longer felt like a gift. It hurt.

He could get hurt.

He dropped a few coins on the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey the bar maid had only just opened. Under the light of a full moon he walked back to his ship alone – the only thing in centuries that he knew would always be there, his constant.

For nearly half an hour he remained on the deck of his ship alone, sitting on the deck with his back leaned against the main mast. Even his ship felt haunted at times. Milah had walked aboard it, and now every encounter with Emma played in a continual loop in his mind's eye, not allowing him a moment of rest.

Leaning his head back, he took a large swig of the whiskey and enjoyed the distraction hat the burn down hi throat and chest brought on. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment.

His moment of peace was interrupted, however, when he heard the creak of someone stepping onto the plank that led to the deck.

A glance down at his waist reassured him that his sword remained at his side, and he did not bother rising to see who the intruder was. He had been dueling for more than three hundred years, he could fight and best almost anyone, even tipsy and sitting down.

He jolted in surprise however, when he heard Emma's voice whisper into the dark, "Hook? Are you up here?"

He was perplexed, and in his hesitation he heard a sigh of disappointment and the sound of her turning to walk back down the plank presumably. He nearly kicked himself for his hesitancy and called out, "What in blazes are you doing here, Swan?"

His eyes adjusted to the moonlight and saw her slowly walk toward where his voice had come from. After squinting for a moment and then relief showing on her face when she spotted him, she strode to where he was sitting and sat down a few feet before him, gracefully crossing her legs and then gesturing to the whiskey and holding out her hand expectantly.

He handed her the bottle and saw her take a pull of her own before handing it back and closing her eyes, face tilted toward the night sky.

Much more softly Killian inquired, "Really lass, what are you doing here?"

Her eyes opened and met his with a look of fear and indecision, while she bit down on her lower lip. Searching his face for something he couldn't fathom, she finally whispered, "I don't know."

* * *

Emma was more relaxed than she had been in months. Granted, the rum she had been nursing for the last hour contributed to that, but more than anything it was the atmosphere of the tavern she was sitting in.

She had never really enjoyed herself drinking in large crowds, usually because in the past she had only ever entered these circumstances to pickpocket, something that didn't exactly allow one to let loose. She had been talking with a few of the men, in particular beginning to know Bowen and Cormic, two of the men that had joined _The Jolly Roger_'s crew at the same time as she had. Because they all thought she was with their captain, they truly had no intention of bedding her – after all, they wanted their major organs to remain inside of their bodies. Their tongues loosened with alcohol, they had been trading riddles and crude jokes for a while before Starkey sat down next to her with a protesting groan from the unsteady chair beneath him.

"How have you been enjoyin' your night, lass?"

She smiled easily, Starkey had become one of her favorite men on the entire ship, and she responded, "Can't complain. How about you?"

"Seein' as none of the men has started a brawl and gotten us all kicked out, I am enjoyin' myself. Love the ship, but its nice to set foot on land every once in a while."

Emma laughed and took a second look at the crew before saying, "And how often does that happen?"

"Well, once Jones arrives I would say we have about an hour before we get the boot. That man can piss just about anyone off."

"Believe me, I know."

Starkey rolled his eyes at her and said, "Swan, how long are you goin' to let him think that you can't stand him?"

She jumped back, surprised and said, "He doesn't think that. Of course I don't hate him, I actually– " she cut herself off, taking a long swig of her rum and changing the end of what she was going to say, "- don't dislike him."

He let out a snort at her answer and said, "Gods, for someone who _doesn't dislike him,_" he quoted sarcastically, "you give the man a rough time. He's the closest thing to a brother I've got and I've known the man for, well, many more years than any would guess – and you, Swan, are goin' to be the death of him."

Self-conscious, she twirled the remaining liquor in her glass and muttered, "I really don't think I affect him as much as you might think."

"Oh believe me, I know. So much more, actually. You don't see the way he looks at ya, lass. Doesn't matter if it's anger or laughter, he's got a life in his eyes that I haven't seen in years."

Emma threw her head back and drank the last of her rum, then turned and questioned angrily, "So what am I to do then, just tell him that I care about him?"

His smirk made her realize her mistake.

"Not that, I mean, I don't-"

"Swan, you really ought to talk to the poor bastard. Even if ya don't have the courage to tell him how ya feel, you might as well let him know he doesn't have to fear being strangled in his sleep."

She glared now, "Why the fuck would I tell him how I feel? Just walk up to him at the bar and start spewing my stupid, juvenile _feelings _at him? If I go there I can't just take it the hell back later. It could ruin everything."

He leaned back with a sad, pitying look in his eye, "Didn't figure you for a coward, Emma."

Whether it was the use of her first name or his suggestion that she was afraid, she stood up and prepared to walk away, saying, "I am not going to ruin his night. We all need relaxation right now, not to mess with the dynamic of the ship."

"Well, lass, seeing as he just walked in, stole a look in your direction and then took off - probably back to the ship – I would say that he doesn't have much of a night to lose."

She anxiously craned her neck in the direction of the bar and then the door, and when she looked back to Starkey he had a surprisingly gentle expression on his face. "Be brave, lass. He may not be the sort of man you see it in at first, but he is definitely the kind of man that deserves for you to take a chance for him."

Killian's face flashed through her mind. His infuriating, amusing, dazzling, butterflies-in-her-stomach inducing face, and she knew that every word of what Starkey had just said rang true.

She took a deep breath and nodded at him, before dashing toward the exit herself and running in the direction of the port where the ship was docked.

Starkey let an enormous smile stretch across his face.

"About fuckin' time."

* * *

Killian watched Emma, and when it became clear she was not going to keep speaking after saying that she didn't know her reason for seeking him out, he stood and stretched, saying, "Guess I'll head off to bed then. Go back to the tavern, have yourself a good time."

He felt her fingers lace through his as she turned him around to face where she now stood before the mast. They both were looking down at their joined hands in wonder, having felt the jolting sensation of rightness. He looked up and saw a tenderness that for a moment he thought he must be imagining.

"I'm scared."

Killian knew how much it must pain her to admit that out loud. This was the same woman that had screamed and sworn at his when he merely suggested she needed help or couldn't do something herself. Her walls seemed insurmountable, and had been built long ago.

He placed his hook beneath her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. In her action of turning him around she had unintentionally backed herself against the mast, and now she was unable to flee from the feelings that overwhelmed and terrified her.

He kept his voice quiet, willing to do anything to keep her from freezing or backing away from this conversation. They both knew that this was it. The hope that had been planted in his heart now had a vice-like grip around it. The air felt as though it was charged with electricity and their joined hands nearly vibrated with the potential of their joined energies.

Her eyes had always captivated him. He had seen hurricanes raging in them, and laughing adding light to their gray-blue, but this was the purest they had ever seemed to him. They were anxious, and most importantly, they were clear. No walls stood between him and he could see a woman that had been broken and bore the same scars of a deep sadness that he knew he did as well.

"What is it that you fear?"

She closed her eyes and took a rattling breath, and he realized she was close to tears. Wanting to comfort her without alarming her, he gently squeezed his hand that remained closed around hers.

She met his eyes, and the words that she whispered were so incredibly quiet, as if she wanted to imagine that she was not really speaking aloud, as if she wanted the option of retracting them before they could reach his ears.

"That you're going to leave me."

Time stopped. Killian felt the blood freeze in his veins. Then all at once, he felt as though something in his chest had burst. The physical sensation of it startled him, but he did not react, only looking into her eyes with pure awe and wonder.

She feared him leaving her. He meant that much to her. She had chosen to lower her guard completely for the first time in what he guessed to be years, and to _him, _a man she feared would leave her. Whoever it was that had broken her, must have shattered every fiber of her being for her to be so fortified against emotion.

Only hours ago he had thought that she may feel nothing for him. That perhaps every connection he had sensed had been fabricated in his own mind. Sure, he had taken physical incentives and always laced their conversation with flirting, but this incredible, fierce, and broken woman had been the one brave enough to confront their precarious situation.

"Emma, I am never leaving you," he said with fervor, saying her name for the first time, and sincerity reverberating with each word. He _needed _her to believe him. To take a chance. He would fight until the end of time if that was what it would take for her to know without a doubt that he was staying. There was a near desperation in his words, and Emma's expression showed a flash of hope before being surrounded by terror and an overwhelming vulnerability once again.

Her voice was slightly louder and she shared a similar sense of desperation for him to hear her words and understand them completely when she responded, "It's going to hurt."

Killian stepped closer to her, only inches separating their faces, and he removed his hand from hers, gently cupping her cheek and using the pad of his thumb to stroke it gently.

"It already hurts, love," he whispered.

The world was nearly silent; only the gentle lullaby of the ocean accompanied the two people standing on the deck of _The Jolly Roger._

Killian leaned forward and did not hesitate as he at long last pressed his lips softly on hers.

* * *

The moment Killian's lips touched hers, every bit of anxiety and fear that she felt slipped away. This was right. So, incredibly right. It was as if her world, which had seemed off of its axis since meeting Killian, was finally righted as they kissed.

Much too soon, he pulled away gently and laid his forehead against her. Protesting, she breathed, "Killian."

His face froze, and she remembered that he had never heard her say his name out loud. An enormous smile overtook his face and his eyes lit up.

"Say it again."

Even if this kiss had just altered their relationship forever, their teasing dynamic remained the same. Instead of obliging, Emma cocked an eyebrow and let a sly smile cross her own face as she challenged, "Make me."

That was all the invitation he needed, and without the gentleness their interactions had possessed a moment ago, his hand placed on her cheek wound around her head and gripped her hair. He pressed his body tightly against hers, still trapped against the mast, and crushed his lips to hers fiercely.

Emma felt like she was on fire. He was burning her with his lips and body. She responded with equal passion, hoping that he could read her feelings in her body language as her arms wrapped around his neck tightly.

He lightly bit her lower lip before running his tongue against it and Emma shivered with pure lust as she opened her mouth to his. As the intensity of the kiss increased she lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist, and he held it there with his hook as he ground his pelvis against hers and showed her just how much he wanted her.

Emma's body jerked towards his as she felt his length rub over her core and she longed for any kind of friction to help sooth the growing, desperate ache that was beginning.

She tightened her hold that her leg had around him and whimpered as his lips left hers to kiss down her neck. Suddenly he removed his hand from her hair and grabbed her ass, lifting her completely off the ground and pressing her against the mast. Both of her legs wrapped around his and he continued to grind against her.

Her name was like a prayer on his lips, between each kiss on her neck and jaw line he moaned, "Emma, Emma, Emma."

His mouth rose to her hair and his lips ghosted on the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Say my name, love."

Trying not to give in and let him win whatever incredible game they were playing, her head fell back and she said hoarsely, "No."

He let out a growl that made her shiver and bit down hard on the junction of her neck and shoulder while at the same moment rubbing the hardness in his breeches right over where she wanted him, and she couldn't hold back any more as she gripped his dark hair tightly and whimpered, "Killian, Killian."

He pulled his head back and looked deeply into her eyes, pleading for an answer as he said, "What is it you want, Emma? We don't have to-"

"You. I want you."

His lips met hers again, with a gentleness as she unwound her legs from his waist and warily stood on her own feet. His hand stroked up her body and rested on her cheek. They drew back and appraised on another before Killian gave her one more slow kiss. He pulled away and turned to lead them to his cabin, and Emma felt herself growing impatient with his cautiousness.

As she entered the cabin she knew so well by now she smirked and said, "You don't need to treat me like I'm made of glass –"

She found herself cut off as he tackled her onto the bed. They were both laughing as his body pinned hers and held her arms by her sides.

His stubble lightly scraped across her chest as his tongue traced her collarbone before his face loomed over hers. His smile was breathtaking and Emma wondered for a moment if this was really happening. But his eyes weren't sapphires and he didn't have the body of a Greek god – this was not a fantasy, this was Killian on top of her. Broken, damaged, sarcastic, ruthless, passionate Killian. This was real.

"Believe me, lass, I am going to do everything _but _treat you like glass." His growling tone made the fire in Emma's lower abdomen grow to a roaring blaze and she tore her arms from where they were pinned and roughly grabbed his face, crushing it to hers. After a few moments of biting and roughness, Killian leaned back so he was on his knees and Emma followed his motion, sitting up. She pushed her hands beneath his jacket and helped him shrug it from his shoulders, and he then mirrored the action for her.

Her vest was the next article of clothing to be thrown off, simply pulling it over her head, leaving her wearing only a simple brassiere over her torso, accompanied by her bandages. The concerned look in his eyes as he was reminded of her injuries was quickly cut off as Emma grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her eyes.

"I will tell you if I am in pain, but if you go easy on me before that I _will _deliver severe bodily harm."

His hand stopped undoing the buttons to her own shirt for a moment as he gripped the back of her neck and kissed her hard again, whispering, "That's my girl," before resuming his actions.

She finished the shirt for him, and was careful not to snag the fabric on his hook as she pulled off the sleeves.

The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on either of them, and the pace of their actions was slowed – more cherished than they had been previously. She lay back on the bed and he carefully pulled her pants off with his hook through her belt loop. As he stood at the edge of the bed, she sat up and met his eyes before sliding his own breeches down. Stepping out of his discarded pants, he climbed onto the bed and leaned Emma back so that his elbows fell on either side of her face.

He gently traced down the side of her cheek with his hook, and when she slightly turned her head and placed a soft kiss on the cold metal, his head swam with the swell of emotion.

She was tearing him apart. He felt so overwhelmed. This wasn't lust. This was not compassion or merely fascination or infatuation. He had never felt like this before. This was different from what he had thought love felt like. He was drowning and trying to breath but all he wanted was to be as close to Emma as possible. He wanted to be near her, in her, with her in every way.

"Gods, Emma."

She let a soft smile stay on her face and reached around to unhook her brassiere, throwing it to the side of the bed and watching his face. He began kissing and biting his way down her neck and across her chest, lingering on her collarbone before dipping his mouth to her breasts and taking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

She let out a loud moan and her spine bowed involuntarily towards his mouth, but it wasn't enough. The foreplay and other acts could wait for another time, she needed him now.

Grabbing his hair tightly she pulled him back to mouth and kissed him desperately before moaning again as his hand and hook ghosted down her sides.

"Please, Killian."

She could feel his smile against her hair as he laughed and said, "You'll need to be more specific, love. Please what?"

Huffing with annoyance she shimmied out of her already-drenched underwear and hooked her toes in the waistband of his own briefs, pushing them off as well. Reaching down, she gripped him tightly and began to stroke. His sudden intake of breath and thrusting into her hand made her smile and she met his gaze before whispering, "What was that about needing to specify?"

Suddenly he slowed his actions and leaned back from her, leaving her body cold and needing his warmth.

"Emma, I need you to be sure. I couldn't – if you later - Are you sure?"

Emma suddenly realized that he was letting her in just as much as she was doing the same. She had been abandoned, but in a way he had been as well. He had lost a love, and his walls were nearly as hard to breach as her own.

She sat up and stroked his face gently, letting her thumbs linger on his lips and she made sure to look into his worried gaze as she said, "I want you."

She leaned back once again so her knees were bent and spread and her upper body was propped up on her elbows. With a hunger in his eyes he moved forward and settled himself between her legs. She traced her toes up the backs of his calves before locking her ankles behind his back. She fully leaned back onto the bed, griping his upper arms and bringing him down with her.

Self conscious, she realized that it had been a while since she had sex. A _long _while. Trying to keep her voice nonchalant she said quietly, "Start slow, okay?"

He kissed her softly three times, each kiss separated by a low, growling whisper of her name. "Of course, Emma. Anything you ask."

His hand gripped her hip and he carefully tucked his hook behind her pillow. She met his gaze and saw a tenderness there she wasn't prepared for, and she knew that this wasn't going to be a quick fuck. He wasn't going to drop her off somewhere, and she couldn't flee the next morning. This would change things forever.

Surprising herself, Emma realized that she wanted this change. She was sure her own eyes held a frighteningly similar emotion, so she nodded deliberately without breaking his gaze.

She let go of his upper arms with one of her hands and wrapped her arm around his neck, gently burying it in his hair and pulled him down to her. In the moment their lips met once again, they both experienced a sensation of fullness, and at long last both felt a sense of peacefulness that they hadn't realized they were missing.

Had they been aware of anything but each other, they would have noticed the visible pulse of energy and magic that had spread in the moment that their lips touched this time, the first kiss that the both of them tried to pour their emotions into. But in that moment, Killian thrust into her in one smooth motion, and the ship could have sunk without the two taking any notice.

Emma let out a gasp, and Killian buried his head against her shoulder. Pulling his head back he looked into her eyes, watching her as her eyes became hazy and hungry. She nodded at him, and when he began to move at a leisurely pace she felt as though she was going to explode. Each thrust filled her so completely, and the muscles in her thighs already began to shake.

His low groans drove her nearly insane and she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his lips to hers in a deep and nearly aggressive clash of tongues and teeth. She felt as though she was vibrating and she only pulled her lips back from his to let out a whimper of "I need you, I need you, harder."

He smirked as he began to quicken the pace and panted, "What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't oblige?"

While she normally would have risen to the bait, his frenzied movements left her breathless. He could feel her as she began to reach her peak so he moved his arm between them and rubbed against her clit, while tracing his lips against the shell of her ear as he murmured, "Say my name."

She held on to him as she fell over the edge, her arms wrapped around him tightly and her face pressed against the side of his neck as she let out a muffled cry of "Killian." As her body continued to flutter around his length she felt him let go as well, and when he groaned her name in near reverence she felt so light, as if she would float away.

He collapsed beside her face down and she curled onto her side, facing him and trailing her gaze lazily over his body. She hadn't fully appreciated it before they had – god she hated how sappy she sounded – _made love. _But now she was able to fully see the planes of his muscles and the degree to which they were marred by scars, some obviously from sword or dagger and some that would require an exchange of stories. She was by no means disgusted, she felt comforted in a strange way because she bore her own battle scars from life on the street. She was happy to notice that the bruises and injuries to her side had not bothered her, and she lazily traced her fingertips over his shoulder.

His face lifted from the pillow and rested so he was facing her, his wide smile gracing his face. When he smiled she felt her heart flutter. He looked younger, not naïve or childish, but as though he had not yet faced the horrors of his life.

She ran her hand through his tousled hair and whispered with a smile, "not too bad for an old man."

A mock expression of horror and offense crossed his face and he pulled back saying, "if you were unsatisfied I can go and find you a lad from the tavern-"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back to her beneath the covers, closer than before so only inches separated their bodies. With an eye roll she responded, "I prefer pirates. Even smug, sarcastic ones."

He settled more deeply into the bed and smirked when he watched her try to stifle a yawn.

"Seeing as I have effectively tired you out, lass, I retain the right to smugness."

Her mumbled insults had no effect on his happiness and he reached his arm around her, pressing her against him and letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. As the aftereffects of their actions faded he had worried she would flee and fortify her walls stronger than ever, something he wasn't sure he could have handled.

Things would never be the same. Their passion had not been merely physical. They hadn't needed to proclaim definitions or wild promises, but their deliberately tender and emotional actions and gazes confirmed their feelings. Neither wanted to be the first to acknowledge it, but they were falling fast and hard.

He was jolted out of his bliss when the faint moonlight streaming through the window shone on his hook and he sat up, sending a nervous glance at a questioning Emma.

"I usually, uh, remove my hook before sleeping, as well as the contraption it attaches to. It's not exactly a pretty sight, lass, so if you would prefer to look away or for me to keep it on, let me know." He felt embarrassed and was nervous to hear her answer, so he refused to meet her eyes.

"Killian, look at me."

He met her gaze and she was unwavering, looking even slightly exasperated as she said, "Of course I don't mind. I have more than a few scars of my own that aren't attractive to look at." She turned her eyes down to his hook and the prosthetic that held it in place, running her fingers along it deliberately. She looked back to him and murmured, "Losing your hand is a part of your story, not something that defines you or marks you as lesser in any way."

The look in his eyes was undecipherable, but he made his feeling clear when he placed his hand against Emma's cheek and said in a clear, factual tone, "You are an amazing woman, Emma Swan."

He turned and proceeded to unbuckle and then remove the entire attachment. As he slowly pulled it from his arm, he held his breath. There was quite a difference in seeing a man with a deadly hook and simply seeing a man with a missing appendage.

However, Emma simply looked at it as she had every other part of his body, with exploration and curiosity. She trailed her fingers down his arm and ran them gently over the stump, meeting his eyes when she felt him shiver.

"I care about all of you, Killian. That means everything." Another yawn overtook her, and Killian laid back down with her, opening his arms as an invitation which she quickly responded to, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his chest.

Just before drifting off into a peaceful sleep she whispered, "Good night, Killian."

As the world was lulled away she made out his response of, "Sweet dreams, Swan."

* * *

Regina woke up with a start. Wildly, she looked down and saw the faint haze around the enchanted pendant she had constructed two and a half decades ago.

Hurrying from her bed she yelled, "Father, contact Snow and Charming immediately!"

Her shocked father peered out from his bedroom and asked in a hoarse whisper, "Your pendant! Does this mean –"

"Yes. Princess Emma's magic has been activated. Tell the king and queen that we can locate her and bring her home at long last."

* * *

_Finally some Captain Swan action. Next chapter focuses on the two as well as further revealing how Emma wound up in an orphanage and why Rumpelstiltskin insists on finding her_


	12. Chapter 12

Regina was pacing back and forth when her father returned from sending a messenger to the castle.

"Father, what if it was a mistake? If the king and queen are given false hope, only for it to be taken away, it will completely crush them."

"Regina, it will be alright. They understand that you have done everything in your power to find their daughter. Rest your worry, my child. This tragedy may be finally approaching its end."

Regina slowed her breathing and sat down heavily, the events of the last twenty four years weighing downon her heavily.

* * *

_She had nearly done it. Nearly allowed the dark magic to engulf her completely, but when the Dark Curse had required her to kill her own father years ago she had found the willpower to stop._

_For a few days she had thought that perhaps her foray into dark magic would yield no consequences, until she had awoken held against the door of her bedroom by the throat, suspended by magic._

_Rumpelstiltskin had been standing before her, angrily clicking his tongue. _

_"Well, dearie, I had thought we agreed you would send the kingdom far, far, away. The spell that was supposed to bind the king and queen's child to this realm as all else was transported away requires too much magic for me to do the Dark Curse as well."_

_She had clawed desperately at the invisible force holding her by the throat, and when it suddenly released her she had landed on the floor gasping._

_"What do you want with the princess?"_

_"I have only ever wanted the princess, you daft bint. The king and queen mean nothing to me. They hold no feelings of anger in my heart. It is their daughter. The product of true love. When her magic is activated she will be the most powerful creature in this realm, and if she remains with the royals there will be no way for me to have access to her. Draining her power will leave me unstoppable."_

_Regina's blood had frozen. The Dark One was already a fearsome enemy of the Enchanted Forest. Him wielding any more power was nearly unthinkable. _

_His eyes had widened and looked gleeful al of a sudden, and Regina did not have time to scream as he suddenly murmured, "Speaking of draining power…"_

_He had plunged his hand into her chest, but not with the intention of extracting it. As he held her heart she had heard him mutter a spell in an ancient language she was not versed in. Suddenly her jaw felt as though it was wrenched open, and she saw a wisp of fog, gleaming and shimmering purple trail out of her mouth and into a vial he had produced. When the torture had stopped she felt as though he had drained not only her magic, but her life as well._

_He had let out a terrifying cackle and then disappeared, leaving Regina half conscious. _

_With a heaving effort she'd risen, and felt immense relief when she'd realized he had left just a thread of power in her, as taking it all and killing her would have tainted all of its power. _

_Battling with herself, Regina had struggled to decide what to do. Rumpelstiltskin would clearly find a way to get to the princess now that he was stronger than ever. But wouldn't this sufficiently act as her revenge? It was only when she envisioned that she and Daniel had been married, happy, far away from all of the evil and had a daughter, how would it feel for that daughter to be wrenched from their grasps?_

_She had transported herself to the inside of the castle, and when she had landed before the king and queen, shaking and then falling to her knees, the entire room was shocked. _

_Regina had felt as though she was dying when she had tapped into the miniscule portion of her being that still had magic. She had only managed to croak out, "Protect the princess, the Dark One needs her for something."_

_She had blacked out at that point, and awoken to find the royals in a state of panic and despair. Immediately after Regina had arrived, the princess had been cloaked in a black fog and then vanished as it had dispersed._

_Snow White and Charming had been nearly catatonic. After giving her a few days of rest, they had visited Regina in the infirmary, where she had been nursed back to health. They had forgiven her for her past evils, and had seen that her transporting meant she wanted to change._

_Snow White and Regina would never be best friends, but they came to trust one another in the following weeks after the princess's disappearance, as Snow treated Regina with nothing but kindness and confessed that she felt guilty for Daniel's death every day, and as Regina admitted she had almost cast the Dark Curse, only stopping when it required her to kill her father._

_Both women were broken. _

_They had shared a mutual feeling of being out of control; Snow with her daughter having been abducted, and Regina left almost without magic and feeling powerless. They both channeled their frustrations with fate into the task of finding Emma as soon as possible._

_Snow was able to summon surrounding sorcerers from the realm to aid in finding her daughter, but they had only been able to identify the spell that had taken her. It was called the Parallel Destinies curse, and it left that whom it was cast on to live a life nearly opposite of how it was supposed to be._

_The knowledge did nothing to comfort Snow and Charming, it left them despairing instead. They would have loved their daughter. She would have been raised in a loving, spoiled state, and the idea that she would experience the opposite was torture._

_There would be no way to find Princess Emma. Locator spells did not work if the travel was by magic. The curse had the potential to have transported her anywhere in the realm. She could only be found when her own magic was activated, leaving a distinct imprint on the veil of magic that blanketed all of the lands._

_Regina had sacrificed the final string of magic her heart contained to construct a pendant that would show when the princess's magic had been accessed. Her subsequent coma had lasted for nearly a month, and the Charmings expressed their endless gratitude._

_Regina had moved into a small cottage with her father on the outskirts of the palace, and she and Queen Snow had become something between acquaintances and friends._

* * *

Regina's father broke through her racing thoughts when he placed a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking it.

"Honey, it will be alright."

"Daddy, I'm not sure if it will be. I didn't want to place even further worry on Snow and Charming, but something major has to trigger latent magic. Something in the spectrum of the Trues: Despair, Rage, Loss, Hatred, Love. She was sent away to a parallel life. She would have been so happy here, Daddy. Her upbringing must have been some level of hell," she said, breaking off with a choked sob as she thought of the situation she had been a part of.

Her father stepped closer, wrapping her in a hug, and whispered, "I'm not sure if your concerns are justified, Regina. Some of the most damaged of people can love the deepest. It has been twenty four years, perhaps she just needed some time to figure herself out."

Regina nodded said, "I just hope that when the queen and king are reunited with their daughter that circumstances have not made her into a monster."

* * *

Emma let out a growling, rumbling snore that forced Killian to smother his laughter in the crook of his elbow. He hadn't heard her snore like that since they had begun sleeping in the same bed. Only a soft crooning occasionally, which had now morphed into a sound he would expect to hear an ogre make, not Emma.

After his laughter subsided, he simply looked at her in wonder. Her hair was a mess and she was tangled in the sheets. _His _sheets. He could only behold her with awe, his swan. The fact that she was pressed against him, completely revealed and trusting him with her vulnerability was difficult to comprehend. Glancing down at his bare arm with its missing hand, he realized that he had done the same.

None of the crew had seen him without his hook. Sure, the men who had been on board when he lost it had seen it when it was bandaged, but as soon as he had acquired the contraption that could hold the hook in place, none had ever seen him without it from that day on.

But this wonder beside him had accepted it without question as simply part of who he was, as if it wasn't unnatural or grotesque. She had merely trailed her fingers along its end and regarded it with the same exploring curiosity as she had shown his entire body when their clothes had been divested.

He was now showing her the same curiosity. His fingers trailed along her spine, tracing her numerous scars that did nothing to distract from her beauty; if anything it added to her allure, it showed her strength and all that she had survived. Her bandages were loose and he could see the ribs beneath them. He noted thankfully that the discoloration had faded to a dulled yellowing pattern.

His fingers continued tracing nonsensical patterns, and he startled when he heard Emma's whisper of "stop staring at me."

Killian smiled widely as her eyelids fluttered open, showing her gray-blue eyes, cloudy with sleep.

"But lass, why wouldn't I stare at this trophy in my bed? Why just now I was thinking of parading you around up on deck…"

Emma groaned and buried her head closer to his chest, gripping the sheets tightly around her and muttering, "Too bloody early for this, Killian."

Every time she said his name it felt like a pleasant jolt, a reminder that she felt for him in the same way he felt about her. He bowed his head and began pressing light kisses along her jaw line, and she inhaled suddenly, shifting her position to give him better access to her neck. As he reached the spot where her neck met her shoulders he saw the bite mark he had left last night and trailed his tongue along it lazily before continuing his journey to the pulse point right beneath her ear.

He could hear her heavy breathing and in a low voice that he knew sent her insane he breathed, "Too early for what, love?"

In less than a second Killian suddenly found himself flat on his back with Emma sitting on top of his thighs, her hands pinning arms above his head and her face lowered until it was only inches from his.

With wide eyes and an expression of pure shock, he knew he must look ridiculous, but it was moments like this that Killian was fully reminded that the person he was with was just as much a deadly warrior as she was a sleepy, delicate-looking woman. Quickly she leaned down and pecked him on his cheek before sitting back up and releasing his arms, moving so that she was perched upright beside him.

Killian shivered as he felt her fingers ghost around his torso. He watched her hands' path and didn't realize she had spoken until she lightly prodded his ribs.

"Oi, no need to wound me."

She responded with an eye roll he secretly knew he could not get tired of and repeated herself.

"What is this from?"

He looked down and saw that she was tapping her fingertips against a long white scar that stretched across the area just above his left hipbone.

He had to think for a moment. It hadn't been life threatening, only happening to leave its large scar, and it took a minute for him to remember.

"Mermaids. Thought they acted as sweet as they look. They quickly reminded me otherwise when I tried to approach one and she unsheathed her talons. They've all got this one long claw on the underside of their wrists, usually can't see them. The broad made sure I would remember."

He saw Emma's lips trembling as she tried with visible difficulty to hold in her laughter. Her brow was creased with false sympathy, and as he felt her shudder with repressed laughs, he finally sighed and said, "Have at it."

The snorting, cackling laughter that was distinctly Emma bounced from the walls and her chest heaved as she caught her breath, giving him a spectacular view as she was still unclothed and the sheets were only pooled below her waist.

"You – had – your ass handed to you – by a mermaid."

As her cackles quieted an affectionate expression covered her face, a small, bemused smile. She lowered her torso so it was nearly parallel to the bed and met his eyes, saying with a soft voice, "Dumb, arrogant pirate," before pressing her lips softly to the scar, and then repeating the gesture until her lips had covered the entire expanse of skin.

Killian had never been so glad to have the heavy blankets covering him below his hips, as an idea suddenly formed in his head that would have to put his _other_ needs to rest for a while.

"I've an idea, lass. Scar for a scar, story for a story, yeah? Didn't get to fully appreciate all of this creamy skin in the moonlight," he said, smirking and running his hand up her torso, stopping just beneath her breasts.

Emma's eyes became slightly hooded and Killian had to keep himself from taking her immediately as a rasp entered her voice and she murmured, "Captain Hook has probably acquired a fair share of scars throughout his decades, we might have to stay locked up all day."

"Well, Swan, we best get started right away. My turn."

Killian made a show of inspecting her, though he already knew what he was going to ask her about. As she had laid beside him sleeping, he had mapped the expanse of her back, and was incredibly curious about the raised, light pink mark that ran down her right shoulder blade aligned with her spine, stretching about four inches.

When he ran his thumb down it deliberately she shuddered and looked almost shy.

"Gods, of course it would be that one." She blew a small strand of hair out of her face and suddenly an expression of embarrassment covered her face, a visage that seemed entirely foreign to Killian, not one that he had seen her wear often at all.

She met his eyes and said, "Am I allowed a skip?"

His smirk only grew bigger when he realized that he had chosen a mark that carried a humiliating story. "Now lass, how would that be fair?"

She let out a defeated sigh and glared at him with no real anger before taking a breath and muttering, "I was twelve and doing a routine steal – a wealthy woman who was staying in my poor little village carrying an enormous purse. I grabbed it and began to take off, but I didn't take into account that the lady must have been part ogre or giant, because the moment I pulled, she pulled back and I was left empty-handed, incredibly confused, and then running for my life as she chased me wielding my own knife."

Killian felt as though every time she answered one of his questions, dozens more sprung into its place.

"Twelve years old? How long have you been stealing?"

Emma looked off into memories that were hidden to him and she looked wistful as she said, "A while now. I was found wrapped in a blanket that said 'Emma' on the path leading to an orphanage. When I was seven the orphanage had an issue with overcrowding, so they handed out kids to anyone who walked by. When the people who took me in couldn't support me, I ran away. I couldn't go back to the orphanage. So I found a couple of kids a few years older than me who lived together as thieves in a few buildings that had been abandoned when they were rumored to be cursed. Stayed there with them until –" Emma seemed to stop herself, and her voice was more controlled when she said, "until I was thrown in jail at eighteen. After I was let out I lived with friends – who became practically family - for five years. And then the Dark One started his manhunt and I left and wound up here."

Killian nodded to himself. He knew that he and Emma were vastly different people, but they both shared the trait of loathing pity, and a detachment to most past events. Her embarrassed tone had proven that it wasn't a painful memory that required comforting, instead it was one that she would rather he forget as it humiliated the hell out of her.

The revelations regarding her past were just that – in the past. He had noticed her hesitation, and while he was positive she was hiding something, it didn't worry him. The fact that she was in his bed and not stifling her emotions showed that she trusted him as best as she was able, and he was confident that when the time came that she was ready, she would tell him whatever it was that she had repressed.

Instead of commenting, he simply placed his hand between her shoulder blades and pressed down gently, lowering her onto the bed so that she was laying on her stomach beside him. He rose and leaned over her, repeating her earlier action and covering the scarred area with his lips, tracing the puckered line with gentle kisses.

Their morning of storytelling continued on, and Killian learned that Emma should not be trusted near any kind of cooking that involved boiling water, while he had to begrudgingly admit that when he first began wearing his hook he would often times reach to scratch his opposite arm or back mindlessly, resulting in a slew of ruined shirts and lingering white lines on his skin.

She had once rolled off of the roof of a one story shop while sleeping and scraped nearly all of the skin off of her forearm when she had landed.

A piece of glass had been imbedded in his bicep when he was thrown through the window of a bar after drunkenly trying to seduce the bartender's wife in front of said bartender.

She had four bright red parallel lines that marred her calf, and when he had guessed for nearly ten minutes as to what animal it had been, finally settling on wolf, she had only responding, "something like that."

At late morning it was her turn to ask for a scar's story, and Killian knew Emma was up to something when a smirk covered her face, which had been roaming his body.

"How about this one?"

Killian was confused at first, knowing that no scars marred his neck, and it was when she leaned toward and licked the spot that she had been asking about that he remembered she had muffled her cries from the night before into his neck, leaving what must be a very visible love bite.

He immediately felt himself begin to stiffen as she continued to trace her tongue lightly along the path it had already claimed under the darkness of night.

Killian's breathing began to quicken when she laid her palms flat against his chest before letting her hands explore all of his abdomen.

"I seem to recall a certain maiden having left that . Beautiful woman, that one. The lass's eyes had a look about them that really made me want to press her hard against my bed and just fu-" Emma's lips crashing hard onto his quickly silenced his teasing remark, and he felt himself groan as she tossed the covers off of them and then straddled his thighs, one hand tangled in his hair and the other covering his cheek. Her tongue traced his lips and his low groan gave her the opportunity to open his mouth further. She dominated his mouth and he had never felt so turned on in his life. Women often let him ravish them, simply accepting his attentions. Emma seemed to want to devour him whole. Her hunger was a rival to his, and when her mouth broke from his, they were both panting, and his length was throbbing, pressed against her stomach.

Emma sat up taller, and there was only a quick flash of self-consciousness in her eyes before it was replaced by lust and determination as she rasped, "I want to try something, okay?"

Before his mind could even form the words to answer her, she stretched taller on her knees that were pressed on either side of him and grabbed his hardness, guiding it to her core before adjusting her body and sinking down on it.

Killian closed his eyes in bliss but could not contain the loud, almost feral groan that ripped through him as he bucked his hips up automatically. He opened his eyes and was met with a mesmerizing sight, Emma looking down at their joined bodies with a hunger in her eyes as well as curiosity and of course a lust that left Killian feeling as though she was burning through his skin.

Experimentally, she lifted herself up and then plunged down on him once again, grinding against him and letting out a loud, seemingly surprised gasp.

He could barely hear over both of their panting breaths, but Emma met his eyes and looked into his own gaze, groaning, "Oh Gods, so good. So, so good."

He slightly propped himself up on a pillow, gripping her hip hard with his hand and wrapping his other arm around her torso, using his forearm to pull her closer to him and leaning forward to taste her chest, already beginning to lightly gleam with sweat.

Killian heard a growl and loosened his grip, soon finding his arms pinned above his head in a passionate imitation of their position this morning, and he shuddered in pure desire when her lips brushed his ear and her voice asserted lowly, "I believe I said I was the one that would be trying something new."

Keeping his arms pinned with her hands, her torso remained inches from his as she continued to ride him, at first slowly, but then with a rhythm that was nearly frenzied. He felt her thigh muscles begin to shake as her own approaching orgasm left her feeling weak, and he took advantage of her distraction to push himself up into a sitting position. He grabbed her hip once again and began to guide her movements, thrusting against her just as she sunk down on him.

Her eyes were half closed and locked on his, and he was sure she saw a similar expression of approaching ecstasy on his own face. No words were said, and the room echoed with both of their loud, erotic breathy noises and the slap of their bodies colliding. She loosely wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in close to him, nearly pressing her forehead to his. He pressed his lips to hers desperately, and even in the throes of pure, carnal lust he could not reign in the emotion that left him feeling almost strangled.

_I'm hers. Gods, I belong to this woman. And she is mine._

Hungry now to see her reach her peak, he released her side from his grasp, pulling his lips away from hers and reaching between them, pressing against her bundle of nerves quickly and mercilessly, causing her breaths to become heavy pants.

Killian felt his stomach begin to tighten and knew he was close to coming. He growled and teased her even more vigorously while leaning forward and whispering against her cheek, "Come for me, Emma."

The result was instantaneous, and Killian made sure to pull back and keep his eyes trained on her face as she lost control, her every muscle seeming to pulsate as he felt her contract around him. She tucked her face under his chin and pressed herself against his chest as she rode out her orgasm.

He could hear her continuing to gasp against him, and when he heard her brokenly murmur, "Gods, oh fuck, Killian, Killian" he let himself come, thrusting into her hard.

As he emptied himself into her, her name repeatedly left his lips like a prayer and he groaned, "Gods Emma, I'm yours."

Both were covered with sweat and tried to slow their breathing. Killian let his torso fall backwards against the bed and whistled softly.

"Damn, lass."

She slowly removed herself from him and collapsed on her back next to him, turning her head to meet his eyes and raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"Back at ya."

The quiet of the cabin allowed for Killian to hear the hustling sound of the men beginning to man the ship once again, and he could hear the thundering echo of the barrels of newly-acquired supplies being rolled on deck and transported into the hold.

This obvious reminder of his duty made him propel himself from his prone position and swing his legs so they hung over the side of the bed. He quickly strapped on his prosthetic and attached the hook firmly in place, humming to himself as he rose from the bed and began to pull on his clothing. He heard rustling from the other side of the bed, and when he was fully outfitted and prepared to go above deck, he turned and saw Emma standing, wearing only the oversized shirt of his that she normally wore to bed, but seeming infinitely sexier knowing she was wearing nothing underneath.

He had to refocus his thoughts and met her eyes, smiling jovially at the prospect of going above deck and seeing his newly-refreshed and relaxed crew, and saying, "Come on Swan, lets get back above deck. You'll be excited to resume your duties on the ship, everyone is much more pleasant after their night of freedom."

He was surprised to see Emma look a little bit surprised, and then to see her eyes narrow in repressed anger.

"So that's it then? Back to crewmember Swan? Just another member of the bloody crew? Fine. Perfect. I'll meet you above deck in five minutes."

Killian was baffled and then felt a twinge of annoyance himself.

"Did I do something to offend you, lass? Why the sudden mulishness?"

He immediately sensed he had said something very, very wrong when her eyes became closed off and her posture stiffened as she turned away. Her voice was flat as she answered, "My apologies, Captain. I misinterpreted our activities last night. It won't happen again."

Killian suddenly realized his error and felt like an ass. He had opened himself up and expressed his feeling for the first time in years, but his sudden nonchalance must seem to her as if he wanted to revert back to their previous relationship, when in fact he desired quite the opposite.

Striding to her side of the room, he gently grasped her shoulder and turned her around, feeling dread at the apathetic look she gave him, completely devoid of any affection or anger. At the moment, he felt himself wishing for her temper for the first time.

"Emma, you did not misinterpret or imagine anything. I meant everything that I said last night. _Everything." _He looked down at his feet self consciously and continued,_ "_I'm just new – well, actually centuries out of practice – with this whole, uh," he gestured between the two of them, "-thing, and I'm pleading with you to have some patience with me."

He looked up and was incredibly relieved to see her mouth twitching before giving in to a small, amused smile.

"Well, I've never really done this 'whole, uh, thing', so lets just roll with the punches for now, okay? Just don't, you know, don't act like I'm some whore you're going to drop off at the next town." Her voice had trailed off and she looked off to the side to avoid his gaze.

Placing his hook beneath her chin, he lifted her eyes to his, not allowing her to run from whatever feelings she had about their new development.

"You are not just another woman to me, Emma Swan. Do not doubt that."

He pressed his lips gently to hers, and when he stepped back, she had relaxed and the fire in her eyes seemed to have been rekindled. "I'll see you above deck, Killian."

He turned and began to climb the steps, trying to wipe the enormous grin from his face before his men could see him smiling like some infatuated nancy.

As the door was only inches from swinging shut, he suddenly heard Emma's shrill shriek pierce the air and he cringed in fear.

"CENTURIES?"

* * *

lovebirds xx reviews are always welcome, let me know what you think.


End file.
